


Stars in Your Eyes

by zanark9nds



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe/Canon-Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams, Enemies to Lovers, First Impressions, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, NSFW, Pet Names, Pining, Slow Burn, Training, Violence, implied promnis, it's gunna be a long ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanark9nds/pseuds/zanark9nds
Summary: Top of the ranks in the Kingsglaive, Nyx Ulric is tasked with training the Crown Prince of Lucis how to warp. First impressions don't go as hoped, but we'll soon see how it goes from there....





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- here we go! I'm going to try to make this a (hopefully not painfully long) chapter fic for you guys!
> 
> \- Nyx is bored, tired, and not prepared to deal with this today.

“God!... _dammit!!_ ”

Nyx laughed as he watched another glaive tumble out of the air helplessly and hit the ground rolling. A distant _“what, is that the third time today already? Why are we partners, man!?”_ was heard shortly after, which elicited from him a grin. He sat across the training field, watching pairs and groups of Kingsglaive soldiers train with each other. This was every day for them unless stated otherwise, told always that there was room for improvement.

But Nyx was getting lazy. He knew how to fight better than anyone; he spent days like these watching glaives like them swear their lungs out as if to prevent them from falling out of a faulty warp strike. He smiles to himself, sun shining through the glass-like structure of the Wall, creating faux stars in the blue sky as the interlacing shards seemed to breathe above him. 

Insomnia felt calm, still and silent, like it often did beneath the blanket of glass, creating almost a hush among the Capital’s inhabitants. Beyond the Wall stretched the vast expanse of lonely sky, unable to see within the protected city. Outside was chaos, destruction, and miles upon miles of vast desert wasteland, the citizens figured. To many, there was no world outside of the safety of Insomnia at all. To them, there was no stretch of rough lines of a mountain range deep in Liede, nor the lush farmlands hidden away in Duscae. Outside of Insomnia, there was nothing. Nyx knew otherwise of course, having seen much of the outside world in his time with the glaives; not far outside the Wall, but far enough to see something new and hear stories from the people on the Outside. 

On the Inside, the city's air was calm, the winds seeping through every so often if only to offer a breeze. The people of Insomnia took advantage of the Wall, taking the aspects of its unwavering safety for granted. No daemons in the dark, here. People came and went as often as they pleased, not having to worry about the underlying threat of the Empire, simply because it hadn't been a worry for years. The Citadel of Insomnia was often ignored by natural citizens, who only worried about their shiny apartments and regular jobs. The Citadel was a channeling source of energy that the entirety of Insomnia depended on, but to the people it was just another fancy palace, _“like the one in Altissa,”_ they would comment, _“or Tenebrae.”_ Their words would flow like water, draining down into pits of wasted energy; they knew what the Citadel was for. Not many cared. The city was just another place; a place of their own, a spot away from the world. Like anywhere else. To the citizens: a city of peace, the only one they knew. To the soldiers and the glaives: a means of keeping their King alive. 

Nyx looked out across the field; within the Citadel, these training grounds were large enough to provide warp strikes impossible to achieve, so there would never be a worry of someone launching themselves into a place they could not return from. The field was vast in that it had room for the glaives to train comfortably enough without feeling cramped or crowded. The sad, flattened grass was long dead beneath their feet, fading into dirt , surrounded by raised levels of stone steps, where glaives - like Nyx - would sit and watch. 

The day had barely begun, still being long before noon. The sun felt sweltering beneath layers of uniform, and Nyx was getting bored. His daggers rested in his lap, his hands rough, gloves wearing through to the skin from use. He squinted his grey eyes, shielding himself from the harsh midday sun. He pointed his glance downward, staring at the patchy ground before him, zoning out to the point where he barely took notice of the figure approaching him. A light _ahem_ raised his awareness. 

He glanced up quickly, almost alarmed, but his gaze fell again. “Oh, just you.” he said flatly to a slender pair of boots on the uneven ground.

“Gee, thanks,” a sarcastic response. Nyx glanced up to greet the wild-haired mage standing in front of him, her arms crossed lazily, her figure poised as if she was always ready to fight. She wore a signature smirk on her pointed face, and gazed at Nyx with eyes of amber liquid. “What’s got you today?”

Nyx rolled his eyes. She sat next to him, swearing at the hard cement steps as she did. “Didn’t think you were stationed here today, Crowe.” Nyx fixed at the straps of his daggers as he spoke, eyeing her occasionally. 

She chuckled shortly. “I’m not, not really,” she leaned back, resting her elbows on the raised step behind her, taking time to sweep dark knots of hair from her eyes. “Just seeing what you were up to. Libertus told me about your new ‘recruit’, or whatever the fuck he was on about,” she laughed. “So I came to see what was going on,”

Nyx looked at her, brow furrowed. “What recruit?” frantically, he searched his mind for a clue he might have forgotten. And suddenly, the realization of _oh, shit-_

“What, did the captain just spring this on you? Seems unlike him,” Crowe offered, a foolish grin upon her youthful face, eyes sparkling with what was to come. 

“N-no, I...must have just forgotten about it,” Nyx replied, half-listening. 

“Do you remember who it is you’re training with?” 

Nyx sighed. _Yeah, it’s -_

“No way-!” Crowe exclaimed in a hushed whisper (as hushed as she could be), throwing her head back in silent laughter. “You got stuck with--!” Crowe’s still laughing noiselessly as she pointed across the field, a figure crossing the plain like a shadow. 

_I sure did,_ Nyx thinks as he sighs, already irritated. Crowe's reaction certainly did not help. 

He watched with tired eyes as the Lucian Prince and _what, his friend? His bodyguard?_ passed by many glaives, who were left wordless, frozen, wide-eyed before a bark of _“enough slacking!”_ was echoed throughout the field. Some of the glaives shrugged, curious eyes glinting behind steel masks, and continued with their routines. 

Nyx stood up, punching Crowe lightly on the knee as he did so to get her to follow suit. She smirked as they stood together, watching and waiting somewhat nervously. 

“I don’t know how I got stuck with this,” Nyx sighed under his breath so that only the mage could hear, making her snicker again. “Hey, the captain thinks you’re the best for the job,” was her reply.

He tried not to roll his eyes. _The best to what, babysit this kid?_ he thought to himself as the Prince and his guard approached. He soon recognized the guard as Gladiolus - _or Gladio, people call him_ \- Amicitia, a son from the long line of King's Shields. Nyx kept to himself what he thought of the King's Shield, or the King's Anything - he didn't like to think of the implications behind it all. Gladio seemed distracted by the training glaives around him, curious as to how their fighting style differed from his own. As he walked them by he noticed the fluidity of their strikes, many - if not all - using daggers exclusively. Gladio wore a curious eye as he watched a pair of glaives launch themselves into the air with a hefty throw of a knife, catching it mid-air before spiralling back to the ground with seamless execution. _Training days._

The Prince on the other hand, tried his best, it seemed, to make little eye contact with anyone. He was short in stature, which Nyx found amusing as he studied him. His dark hair shadowed much of his face, falling in uneven lengths across his eyes. His face was pale, expression almost as tired as Nyx felt; his eyes, behind strands of hair, seemed sunken, sleepless. The Prince walked with a casual demeanor, laughing as he walked with his Shield. Nyx didn't hear it, but his laughter was singsong, echoed through his lungs and felt almost childlike. But his smile was small, as if forced. _Must be so tough, -_

“Nyx Ulric, right?” a deep voice broke him from his thought. Gladiolus stood before him, hand held out as if to greet him. 

Nyx met the greeting, “you got it. You must be the Shield,”

Gladio smirked, at first not sure whether it was meant as a good or bad thing. “Hm. Yeah. Anyway, I dunno if the Captain told you or not, but I’m handing Noct off to you for a while,” he grinned, a second nature response. “You just let me know if he gives you any trouble,”

Nyx turned to Noctis, holding out his hand. “Alright, your Highness, I’m Nyx Ul-” 

Noctis scoffed at the title. “Yeah, I heard.” his voice was quiet, sharp, and seemed to carry weight with his words. Was he bored just _standing here?_

Nyx resisted a scowl, biting at the inside of his lip instead. “Alright.” he flatly replied, retracting his hand when it was not met. Noctis shifted his weight from foot to foot, a nervous tic. 

Gladio broke the silence by telling the Prince off, then turning to Nyx and telling him “don’t worry about him, just do whatever you usually do” and trailed off into something that made no sense to the glaive. With that, Gladio turned to leave, waving as he walked away. 

Nyx cocked his head to the side, thinking of what to do now. He’s trained plenty of glaives before, but this felt weird to him somehow. Like he had to be more formal or careful, _this is the Crown Prince after all,_ he figured.  

“So -- did you have anywhere you wanted to start, or-”

“You’re the professional,” the Prince shrugs. 

Ignoring the tone, Nyx inquires whether Noctis had trained with daggers before. “No more than Ignis has shown me,” he replies with another shrug, much to Nyx’s annoyance. He considers going all out, holding nothing back to take the Prince down a notch - _or a few,_ but ultimately deems it unwise. He glances over at Crowe, who had since become disengaged with the scene, checking her phone absentmindedly. She mutters something about a note from Libertus, then takes off, promising to catch up later. Nyx waves her off and she’s smiling as she goes, wishing she could stay to watch the damage. 

With nothing but the two of them, Nyx clears his throat, getting right to business.

“Let’s forget about warping for now,” he begins, summoning a dagger in each hand with a blue flare. “Get your sword.” 

As if a switch had turned on, the Prince shifted from his stiff, awkward stance to immediate readiness, right arm lashing out in front of him suddenly, hand gripped to his usual training weapon. Nyx swore he could see a smirk cross his face as he prepared to attack. 

Nyx waited. _You first._

Noctis didn’t wait to strike. He lunged forward; Nyx noted how quickly he moved, but how heavy-handed he was at the same time, likely due to Gladio’s training. Either way, Nyx moved seamlessly away from the hit, sidestepping as if he had done so a million times before, a chuckle escaping his throat. Noctis wasn’t expecting a full dodge, but stopped himself to swing in the direction Nyx had gone, his stature becoming an advantage. Nyx said nothing, lithely stepping around Noctis as if it were a dance. He could sense the Prince becoming more and more frustrated with each dodge, and Nyx couldn’t help but grin in amusement. Something about the Prince’s determination to land a strike on the glaive sparked something in Nyx’s thought, so he gave in, changing up the routine. 

He strikes with his left hand, stepping with his right foot. The Prince deftly defends the strike with his sword, the echoing clash almost singsong in nature after what felt like hours of silence. Nyx swivels, swinging with his right hand this time, and has the Prince in the back. Smiling, he offers a “not bad for day one, your Highness.”

Noctis mutters a response Nyx doesn’t pay much attention to, watching the Prince as his weapon vanishes by the wave of a frustrated hand. He lets his own weapons vanish in his hands as he circles back around their training area. He's about to say something, but instead watches curiously as Noctis' emotion changes from bored and frustrated to frantic in realization that he’s running late for something else. An offer of “ahshit see ya tomorrow thanks” and the Prince was gone. Nyx found himself smiling long after still, laughing to himself how easy this training would be.

_Not bad for day one at all._


	2. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -A few days of training have elapsed, and Noct is left frustrated at Nyx and himself for not being able to get the hang of things. It's warp time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thank you for reading along so far! Much more to follow!

“You can do better than that, your Highness.”

Noct scowled from behind his hair, glaring up at the glaive from where he fell. “I know,” he replied shortly. 

Noctis watched as Nyx brought up his daggers again, waving one at him. “Then get up,” he sounded annoyed at the Prince.

_Well, I’m annoyed too._

He stands, his legs sore from three full days of this _\- stupid -_ training method. Brushing the dirt from his clothes, he summons his own daggers, hating the feel in his hands. They felt too flimsy, too short, and much too close for his own comfort. Nyx had been trying to tell him how to hold them properly, Noct getting angrier each time. 

“I’m not _left handed,_ ” Noct had said sharply, glaring at him after Nyx told him on the second day of training: _“Uh, Prince Noctis, we use two daggers. How’re you going to manage with just one?”_ Reminding himself of the event hardens his scowl, remembering how Nyx laughed at him when he tried to fight single-handed. It’s been a few days since, and the thought still hangs in his mind. Nyx’s full-body laughter, sounding almost joyful in the way the tone of his voice raised. Noct caught himself staring at his smile as he laughed, looking as if he was the happiest he’d ever been in that moment. It was interesting in how he could project such emotion in his actions; Noct hastily trailed this thought to Nyx’s fighting style, how deftly he could move, as if his daggers were leading him rather than the other way around. Unlike Gladio’s way of training, or even with Ignis, Nyx knew how to step in such a way that made his movements seamless. Everything he did seemed effortless, which frustrated the Prince even more. 

“The hell you waiting for?” Nyx snapped, breaking his thought. 

“Nothing,” Noct hissed, preparing his stance to fight again. 

Nyx smirks. “Can’t believe you’re this unfamiliar with daggers, your Highness.” 

“I’m not here for dagger training, remember?”

“One step at a time,” Nyx says flatly. “You try to warp now, you’ll hurt yourself. Wouldn’t want that for the Crown Prince, would we?” he teases.

_I hate this. I hate you and I hate this,_ Noct thinks as he moves to strike again. Nothing was worse to him than people depending on formality in order to talk or connect with him. Nothing alienated him more; it was always a case of _“yes, your Highness”, “certainly, Prince Noctis,” “no, your Highness,”_ and more often than not, a strict sense of coldness behind the words themselves. Never had he been approached with a sense of friendliness, other than from the friends he had known his whole life. There was never a warmness or kindness in the way people spoke to him, and he hated it. 

Channeling his anger, he dealt strike after strike toward Nyx, slowly getting the hang of the dual-daggers technique. In these few days, he had been able to deal a couple of blows to the glaive, but Noct was ultimately annoyed at not being able to practice his warp strikes. He had warped a handful of times, even once or twice on accident. If he was honest with himself, the thought of warping terrified him; he felt, during those few times, that he was falling apart entirely as he moved. He wasn’t trusting enough of himself to be comfortable enough with the technique, and wasn’t sure if he ever would be. _Just want to get this over with._

Nyx deflected every strike as if careless, wearing a small smile upon his face as he did. Noct told himself he hated that smile, perhaps because he couldn’t tell what it meant more than half the time. It was always there when he failed, but there when Nyx faulted too. _Is this some sort of game to him?_ he would think, wanting to wipe that smile from his smug face. Noct was able to deflect most of what Nyx swung at him, to Nyx’s surprise, he hoped. The last thing he wanted the glaives to think was that the Prince was a shitty fighter. He didn’t realize that Nyx was one of the best, and that he was barely trying at all. 

The sparring continued for a while, Nyx barely breaking a sweat while Noctis was quickly becoming exhausted. He considered his left hand useless, barely having used it in training before, which amazed Nyx; _“they expect to throw you into battle one handed?”_ Noct had to admit that he was right, but he felt like he was learning from square one, while the glaive was miles ahead. Despite his thoughts, Noct tended to be a quick learner, taking the time to remind himself that he’d be good at this in no time, then he could _rub it in his stupid face_ about it. 

The day was hot, the air heavy around the glaives. Many had taken breaks longer than usual, mostly to watch the match between Nyx and the ‘new recruit’. They’d sit at a distance on the raised stone steps, against taller stone pillars - many of which were cracked from being warped into so many times. They were good “hangout” spots, from which to warp into and hang from for a short time, if only to warp to another place shortly after. This technique was often misused as a means of challenging each other to great heights, as well as seeing who could hang there the longest. Watching the scene, the glaives were curious at Nyx’s easy going nature, as they always had been; but moreso at how silent the Prince was. He circled the area, not saying a word, not letting the enemy take advantage of that aspect. He never said a word, but his expression said it all; Nyx could see easily the anger, the frustration the Prince felt burning in the ocean hue of his eyes. This only made Nyx smile more, a grin flashing to his face as he dealt the Prince another blow, knocking the dagger from his left hand instantly.

“Not bad, Prince Noctis,” he said, relaxed, crossing his arms. He looked around, studying the curious glaives still watching. He barked something Noct paid no attention to, any many resumed their own business. Turning back, Nyx’s eyes lit up as he watched Noct summon his weapons again, but he held out his hand gently as if to stop him. “Nope, not again,” he started. “I can see it in your face, you’re no good fighting right now. It’s warp time.”

Noctis’ expression changed fully at the word, his eyes widening, letting go of the anger and replacing it with fear. Nyx saw this, too. “Something wrong with that?”

“No.” his shaky response, letting his shoulders relax from his fighting stance. 

“One step at a time, like I said,” Nyx offered, “and nothing will go wrong.” as if he could sense that crippling fear that plagued the Prince, his memory of warping for the _first, second, fourth_ time replaying in his mind. The feeling of losing substance in his blood, seeing nothing but blue light as he launched himself forward into the unknown. 

Nyx started slow, as promised. He introduced Noctis to a unique stance which made takeoff easier; dominant foot slightly forward, pointed, shoulders leaning slightly behind the rest of the body. “This way,” Nyx explained, rolling his right shoulder forward as he spoke, “you can place more of your weight into the throw itself.” 

“Makes sense,” Noct answered, less snark than usual. All he could think of was _falling apart, falling apart, falling apa-_

“You seem pretty distracted,” Nyx offered. 

“It’s…fine,” Noct began. “Just haven’t had the greatest time warping in the past.” He didn’t want to explain it, because he wasn’t sure how; how the sensation of leaving your body behind left him feeling dead cold, as if he was a skeletal frame replicating itself outside of its system. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Nyx assured. “We take it step by step, you won’t end up like that,” as if he knew _exactly_ the feeling. 

Nyx shortly explained the stance again, then, summoning one dagger this time, threw it in one second, disappearing with it in the next. Twenty feet away, he struck a wall-like pillar of rock. Noct’s eyebrows raised slightly, tension strung in his chest. A few seconds more, and Nyx was next to him again, appearing out of a flash of deep blue, a magical entity. 

“Alright,” Nyx said shortly. “Your turn, your Highness.” 

Noctis took a shallow breath, unable to focus. “Uh,” he began, about to say something along the lines of _I have no idea how to do this,_ but didn’t want to seem like he hadn’t been listening. _I was,_ he thought. _I just… you’re just -_

“Prince Noctis?” a voice inquired. A warm, welcoming, soft voice compared to just a few days ago. Or was he imagining it? _Wait, why is this even – okay, it’s warp time. I can’t think of that right now._

Noct summoned the dagger into his right hand, steadying his nervousness as best as he could. His pale hands shook in distress, fear of the feeling to come. He froze entirely, his weapon crumbling into a faint blue ash at his feet.

Nyx took notice immediately. “Remember what I said,” he stared deep as he spoke. “step by step. It won’t be like that again.” 

His voice was the definition of calm, assuring Noctis from every fear he held onto as he spoke. The kind of voice that could calm a storm, Noct figured; smooth, but with an edge that threatened to tear into his heart. _Wait, no – warp time. Warp. Time._ Shaking his head, Noct gathered his focus, a different kind of fear encroaching. Summoning his dagger again, he took the proper stance. The glaive didn’t say a word as he watched from a small distance. 

_Step by step. This foot forward – or was it the other -? no, no this one. Okay, shoulders back, full weight, and --_

Noctis threw the dagger with as much force as he could, launching himself with the steel. A cold feeling overtook him, blue encompassing his sight. Time was suddenly still; he watched through a near oceanic lens the world around him blur and twist, and in triumph realised that this was not the same as before. He celebrated too soon, however, not realizing that the dagger, jutting out of the rock, was inches away. Without time to grip the handle, the Prince landed hard against the rock with his right shoulder, realization emitting with a light _“fuck!"_ as he entered reality again. He could hear the glaive erupt in lighthearted laughter, apparently unable to stop himself, trying to cover it with a cough. Noct felt his face redden, wishing he could warp out of time completely. He took a minute to recover on the ground, holding his right arm pitifully. The glaive approached from behind, silence in his footsteps. 

“Honestly,” Nyx began, unable to hide the grin on his face. “Not bad for a real first try.” 

Noctis simply answered with a glare, shoving himself to his feet, clothes caked with dust. He heard the offer of _try it again if you’re up for it,_ and walked back to where he started. All he needed was to focus.

But something stirred in his mind that wouldn’t let him concentrate. Something about the glaive, the way his smile burned onto his brain, not sure if he hated it or loved it. The way his voice, stirring deep from his lungs, was able to sound so weightless as he spoke, making Noct envious of those around him. _But why --_ he stopped himself, trying to think of something else. It was pointless, however, as he watched Nyx warp to something farther away, his back arching as he launched himself forward. He could hear that _stupid_ laugh as the glaive landed his just inches away from another one – Libertus, he guessed. An angry “the hell, man!?” could be heard throughout the training area as Nyx doubled over in laughter, Noct realizing he couldn’t look away, a pained expression crossing his face. _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ;0; poor Noctis! 
> 
> \- once again, thank you so much for reading! let me know if you're enjoying it so far! 
> 
> \- for updates and other works, please head over to my twitter, @animaswickedson!


	3. Day 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- things get heated during another training day. Crowe's got some words for Nyx. And what's this... a dream?

The days grew hotter beneath a burnished sun, driving many of the glaives for shelter and shade during their off-time at the training grounds. The Citadel yawned an expanse of heavy air, shrouding the entirety of Insomnia, making it feel as if it would melt. Nyx would throw his Kingsglaive jacket at on the stone steps at arriving to the grounds, already angry at the hotter weather. Nothing about the glaive uniform was comfortable at higher temperatures; though trained to be light on their feet, their boots weighed down with steel buckles and armor beneath thick leather. Their clothes were fitted, to the point of becoming difficult to move around in with the added discomfort of the heat. The sun cast down its fury through the glimmer of the Wall, everyone inside wishing that the King’s magic could deflect that, too. 

Nearly two weeks have elapsed since the Prince began training with the glaives. Nyx was surprised at how much Noctis improved with each day, though off-put at how distant the Prince held himself. He had tried being friendly with him, maybe _too friendly,_ but the glaive figured that’s just how he was, so he dropped the approach. Some days, they’d stick to duels, depending on minimal warp strikes to get by. But Nyx noted at how the method of warping was growing on the Prince, in that he no longer felt his nerves shake when he attempted to phase. Nyx eventually warned him, however, that warping was one of the most difficult and dangerous techniques to master. He mentioned to Noct what he and the other glaives referred to as “slicing”, an unfortunate circumstance where the warp strike would go wrong for any reason, causing the weapon to warp with the glaive at the same time; this would result in the blade slicing its user open during warp, making the wound especially difficult to heal. “Phasing through shifts of reality like that can fuck you up pretty good if you aren’t careful,” Nyx would say, not wanting to scare the Prince away from the technique altogether. To his pleasure, however, Noct only grew more attached to warping, even practicing on days off. So, other days they would solely practice warping, Nyx challenging Noctis to certain hangout spots on the pillars surrounding the area. He was able to keep up most of the time, Nyx making sure never to stray too high. Other than slicing, there was nothing worse than falling out of a warp you weren’t able to recover from. 

Today was just another sparring day. Groups of glaives groaned, weakened by the heat. “If daemons come today, we’re screwed” one would jest, low energy levels among the soldiers passively grunting in response. A group of mages sat together, Crowe among them; she was lying lazily on a stone step, jacket in one hand, phone in the other. “My glove is stuck! I - I think it’s melted to my hand!” one of the mages exclaimed, eyes wide in panic, causing Crowe to smirk lightly. “Don’t use fire magic today, dumbass!” was heard in response. 

Meanwhile, Nyx and the Prince were at a standoff, glaring at each other. “Again,” Nyx offered, kindness washed from his voice. 

“No, what’s the point?” Noctis answered flatly, arms crossed. He was covered in dust, having had no victory today. His jacket lay abandoned on the dirt, his hair flattened by the humid air. His eyes burned in anger. 

“You’re not gonna get better that way,” said the glaive, summoning a dagger lazily. 

“How is this,” the Prince returned, gesturing wildly to Nyx. “me getting better?”

Nyx hesitated. Glancing over to the mages, a new consideration came to mind. “Alright, your Highness.” without a warning, he dropped his daggers in the dust. Summoning a swirl of icy blue in his hand, as if forming out of his skin, he fired a shot of cold magic at the Prince, who yelped in response, barely dodging the projectile. “What the hell!?” 

“Just keeping you on your feet,” 

“You could have killed me!”

“Sure I could have. I could have at least twenty times by now,” he shrugged. “Your Highness,” he added with a smirk. 

Noctis let out an enraged sound. “Cut that shit out,” he growled. “I have a name, you know.” 

“What, not a fan of formalities?” the glaive teased back, insufferable. 

A deep glare was his only answer. 

“Good, me neither. Noctis,” sly tone of his voice shaking the Prince to his core at the sound of his name. 

“Shut up!” the Prince belted, a flare of ice summoned in his hand, Nyx’s eyes widening at the sight. Noctis threw the bolt of magic at the glaive, unleashing his rage. Nyx spun wildly to avoid the blow, summoning his own magic again. He deftly threw icicles at his opponent, as if they were his own daggers again. Noct wasn’t having it; fueled by his anger, he was an equal match for the glaive, firing spells left and right. 

“Now we’re talking!” Nyx laughed as he just-so-missed a bolt of purple lightning, the hues reflecting in his bright eyes. Had he realized the Prince was this skilled in magic, he would have done this a long time ago. He couldn't help the smile that reached his face, breaking through his frustration of the last few days of coldness from his 'recruit'. 

“No! We! Aren’t!” Noctis responded, bolt after bolt firing out of his hands. He was clearly exhausted, but nothing could stop him. He was determined by something that Nyx couldn’t put his finger on. 

But as he fired his magic, Nyx saw signs of stasis in the Prince approaching fast. Things were going to become volatile if Noct didn’t stop himself.

“Noctis,” the glaive began, loving the feel of the word, lisping the ‘s’ lightly as if to hang onto his name a bit longer. The Prince didn’t hear him, each spell becoming a struggle to produce, shouting through the pain of each summon. “Noctis! Enough!”

But he was unstoppable, gathering a crowd around him as he dished out spell after spell toward Nyx, who was becoming exhausted at the work it took to evade them. 

“Noctis!” _I can’t stop saying your name,_ “This is dangerous!”

And for the first time, the Prince’s laughter. Unleashed through anger, full, harsh, and loud. Nyx felt his heart skip. “You started this! I thought you wanted me to get better!” he heard through the fury.

_I don’t want to do this,_ Nyx sighed to himself as he brought out a dagger. Readying a strike, he threw himself at the Prince, catching his weapon before it contacted skin, steel spinning in the twisted, phasing void of blue. In a matter of seconds his hand made contact with the Prince’s chest, landing against him as lightly as he could. Phasing back to reality, he found himself pinning Noctis to the ground, hand sprawled over his chest, looking down into shocked blue eyes that burned into his. He quickly stood up, pulling Noct up with him, gripping his arm. Before he could say anything, Nyx spun around to face him, pointing to his chest. “What the hell is your problem?” he shouted, much louder than intended, grey eyes staring at Noctis with a glare that shocked him into silence. “You let your emotion control you, and you get yourself killed!” he allowed his voice to rise, ignoring the crowd of glaives around them. Noctis stared back, as if to respond, but found no words. 

“Take a few days off. Get outta here.” Nyx flatly said, turning away.

“No,” the Prince offered in a smaller voice. “I don’t want to, I -”

Something stirred in the glaive’s heart at the sound, making him feel weak. “You’re gunna need it,” he replied, his voice quieter again. “You wasted a lot of energy doing that.” 

Nyx was offered a small nod in response, and Noctis left the area without another word. 

_Dammit,_ he sighed deeply, still ignoring the others surround him. Exhausted, he walked over to his usual resting spot, where he found Crowe, still lying across the stone step, phone in one hand. He sat next to her, resting his head in his hands, a groan escaping his throat. 

“So you gunna tell me what all that was about?” the mage inquired after a minute of waiting for him to speak, eyes glowing at him past her phone screen.  

“What _what_ was about? Just the Prince being an idiot, apparently,” he retorted, voice shaking.

“God. _He_ was being an idiot? Did you hear yourself out there? I’m not sure if I’ve heard you that fired up in a long time,” Crowe sat up, setting her phone aside.

“Agh, I know,” Nyx admitted, staring at his boots. “I let myself go. What choice did I have? He was - he’s - what? What are you doing,” he turned, watching a smile grow on Crowe’s slim face, eyes shining. 

“Look, I know you guys were using ice magic a lot out there but man,” she grinned. “Seemed pretty _heated_ to me, if ya-know what I mean,”

His slate eyes widened. “I don’t think so,” he glared, waving a hand at her passively.

“Hey, whatever you say,” she chuckled, brushing strands of messy hair from her eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Come on, Ulric,” she sighs. “Look at you. You tease him as if it won’t piss him off, and you look at him like he’s nothing you’ve ever seen...you’re showing up for training now like it’s this fun game. Don’t take my word for it, but…” she trailed off, holding up her hands, defeated. 

Nyx scowls, brow furrowed. “You think I _like_ this kid?”

“I didn’t say that,” she grins foolishly. 

“Come on,” he’s irritated, 

“Also, Nyx, he’s not a kid. Stop treating him like one.” she seemed annoyed for a moment, but shook it off. “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Everyone’s too pissed from the weather to hang out later.” she stood up, grabbing her jacket off of the step as she left. Nyx waved nonchalantly, too bothered by her words to really notice that she had gone. 

Nyx was the last to leave the Citadel’s training field, feeling a chill when he finally did. 

 

\----- 

 

_“Hey, what’re you -”_

_The world twisted and spun around them, phasing through reality in a haze of blue. Or purple? He was never sure. He knew the colour was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful_

_“Beautiful”_

_“Yes?” a voice much softer than before. Echoing through the void like a lullaby._

_Yes._

_All he could see was those piercing, striking blue eyes - a stare that knocked the breath from his lungs, a stare that cut into his heart._

_Somehow._

_“I didn’t mean to yell at you like that”_

_“Who?”_

_Who?_

_He blinked, swearing he could feel tears escape, no gravity holding him down, drifting apart from his beautiful, beautiful_

_“No.”_

_He tried to see past the swirling atmosphere, but the images were twisted beyond recognition. All that existed was those eyes, so piercing, so emotional, so powerful_

_“Why….you….h….me..?”_

_“What?”_

_But the voice was no longer clear, and it became louder, harsher, the light in those eyes pulsing, emoting fear, nothing but fear, fear, of_

_“Please”_

_“I’m just a glaive”_

_“I know”_

_“You’re the-”  
_

\-----

Nyx awoke in the deep heart of night, slate eyes shot wide open as if in a state of terror. Everything felt cold around him, everything dark and fresh and unknown. _What was that?_ Just a glaive? Just… a glaive. Just a glaive. 

_just a -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- oh, nyx.... 
> 
> \- I hope I'm getting the descriptions accurate enough for the warpstrikes! They're a lot of fun to write and interpret so I hope you enjoy them as much as I do ! ;A;


	4. Day 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Noct decides to spend the rainy day at home, nearly unable to handle his train of thoughts...

_Beautiful._

_“what?”_

_“don't take my word for it”_

_“who?”_

_The phase light blue, purple, he didn't care, able to concentrate on nothing but those steel grey eyes. Nothing else mattered. Nothing ever mattered until now._

_He was crying, he thought, he could feel it._

_“why are you here?”_

_“where?”_

_“why do you….”_

_“what?”_

\------

 

The morning light was muffled, washed out, still too bright. Rain pelted the large window by the bed, repeating sounds of little _ptt’s_ hitting the glass. Outside, the world had turned grey and cold, sharply contrasted to the day before, the heat, the sun all washed away. Inside, the billowing comfort of the bedsheets, the softness of the oversized pillows - everything so gentle, but so suffocating. 

Noct rolled over in his bed, sighing up at the ceiling, a hand brushing back his hair as if exasperated. He squeezed his eyes shut in attempt to fall asleep again. “I’m sorry,” he spoke out loud, resting the back of his hand over the bridge of his nose, shielding the restless grey invading from the outside world. He wanted nothing more than to hide away, forget the dream he had, forget the past few weeks, _forget the glaive -_

“Aaggh” he growled pitifully, slapping his hands to his face. _I can’t,_ he thought to himself. Can’t forget the glaive, can’t forget his eyes, _they’re kinda silver,_ can’t forget that smile, _always sort of friendly looking,_ can’t forget that - 

“Stoooop, stop stop stop,” he yells, rolling over to shove his face into the pillow beside him. 

_I hate this. I hate you and I hate this,_ echoes in his mind, over and over, trying to convince himself it was true. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, _it’s soo easy to hate you, you know. So easy that I’m not even coming in to see you today, ha ha -_ he thinks, breath shaking into the pillow. 

His thoughts stuck to yesterday, fire in his eyes, ice in their hands; he couldn’t shake the piercing glare, the anger shown plainly in them. Noct sighs, staring up at the ceiling again. “I didn’t...mean to do all that,” he says to no one. _I don’t know why I couldn’t stop,_ he considers slowly. _I felt stronger than you for once, and you still beat me._

That was it, he realized. He was tired of feeling weak, tired of feeling like he couldn’t do anything. Tired of the glaive pushing him into the dirt, knocking him down, making him feel useless. 

He rolls over to the table near the bed, checking his phone. A small light blinks softly, telling him he’s got a message.

Two messages.

One from Ignis, the usual _[Noct. Can’t make it this morning, other business to attend. Do you have enough food, do you need anything, &c.] _ Noct chuckles a bit as he reads it, as if Ignis was there saying it himself. The other was from Prompto, which read 

_[hey dude. How’s training going? You going there again today?]_

The message was received little under an hour ago. Glancing to the corner of his phone’s screen, he sighed to himself that it was past noon. If he had to go to training, he would have been there by now. He smiled, thinking of the glaive, hoping that his absence would piss him off. 

Lazily, he typed a slow answer to Prompto, half of his face still buried in his pillow. 

_[not going anywher 2day - did u want 2 come over]_

he sent, not wanting to spend one more second alone with his thoughts. A few minutes of silence. Staring at the grey of the walls, the wash of pale saturation making his mind feel lifeless and trapped. A small _bzzt_ was heard on the table.

_[sure man, be there in 20 ish :D]_

Noct kicked himself free of his blanketed comfort, lazily stepping into the shower in hopes of waking himself up and clearing his thoughts. To no avail: the glaive stuck to his mind like nothing ever had. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand, as if to burn the effects of the dream off, hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. He closed his eyes, letting the water hit his face, seeing nothing but _the glaive_ behind tired eyelids. Mocking him, stirring a curiosity in _what do you want from me?_ , a realization that no, mocking wasn’t quite right. Noct reflected for a moment, thinking of how different training sessions were with Gladio versus the glaives. Gladio would berate him, talks of “you can do better than this,” and “quit being such a baby”; Noct knew the Shield simply reflected this method from how he himself had learned to fight, so he tried not to take much of what he said to heart. He felt that the glaives’ method was, somehow, more _fun?_ in the way that their movements were entirely fluid, that movement was just as important as strength. Thinking back, Noct realized that Nyx had never really mocked him, but rather pushed him farther, motivated him; sure, he ended up losing more than he won in sparring matches, or missing the point of a warp by a few feet. It would make Nyx laugh, _his eyes looked more silver, shining, as he smiled like that_ \- but it was light-hearted, making Noct want to laugh too, although he managed to stop himself each time.

_Why?_ his mind wandered, thinking of how cold he had been toward the glaive. He couldn’t figure out if he hated him, _I really feel like I couldn’t hate him if I tried,_ he admitted. He nearly tripped against the glass door of the shower on his way out, stumbling and swearing and feeling embarrassed despite no one being there. He sighed at himself in the fogged mirror, scowling at his tired face. “You should have went there today,” he said. “He probably thinks you’re scared of him now.”

And he was, for a moment. He remembered the day before like some sort of episode, playing over and over again in his mind. The magic was _fun,_ he realized with a grin. But he took it too far, and he knew it, cursing himself for it now. But more than anything, he couldn’t get _that stare_ out of his mind, those deep, endless eyes that burned with anger - _and something else, worry? fear?_ at the Prince’s actions. Noct remembered how his heart leapt into his throat at the realization of being knocked to the ground, looking up at the glaive kneeling on top of him, eyes wide, almost terrified, dagger shaking in his hand. It took Noctis more time than necessary to realize that _holy shit, he threw his dagger at me,_ but he remembered the heavy feeling of stasis afterward. The glaive was right. Noct came home exhausted, confused, and angrier than ever at himself. _Just when I had been doing so well, too-_

His thought interrupted by a rapid knock at the door, followed by a muffled “dude, it’s me!” 

Noct sighed once more, pulling on the same shirt he had slept in and a pair of loose pants. The knocking continued as he slowly moved toward the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he called out, opening the apartment's door. 

“Hey man- wow, look at you,” Prompto laughed as he entered the apartment, shrugging in a dampened-from-the-rain sweatshirt. Flattened spikes of blonde hair were tossed messily around his face, damp and heavy around his bright eyes and pale freckled skin.  

“What, what now,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. 

“You look tired as shit. What do they do to you in training?” he laughed as he sat down at the small table in the open space, pushing aside a pile of books as he did. 

“I’m fine,” he says through a sigh. Moving to the kitchen counter, he sets out a mug, a “want one?” over his shoulder, - “coffee? sure” - another mug, as he fills a kettle with water. He shuffles around, always forgetting where the little jar of instant coffee was. Everything was grey, everything blurred, swirling, swirling _in that blue -_

“So what’s up man? How is training going anyway?” Prompto asked, fully interested, bright eyes curious. 

“Oh, it’s been...fine? I guess,” he began, trying to focus on the coffee more than his thoughts. _Two sugars, black, not the best but it’s kind of alright -_ “kinda fun getting the hang of warping, actually. I was freaked out at first, just because of those few times,” he nodded over his shoulder, Prompto nodding back. 

“Yeah with, the, wait, weren’t you drunk that time anyway?” 

Noct ignored him. “anyway, “ he continued, making Prompto’s coffee the same without thinking to ask him.

“So why aren’t you there today?”

Noct nodded toward the rain. “Wouldn’t be as fun,” he simply noted. Sighing, he figured he should at least try to talk about what else had happened. “That, and, well,” he trailed off, confused at how to continue. 

“Wait, did something happen? Oo!” his friend exclaimed, before glaring oddly into the drink that was handed to him. Two sugars, black, was not his usual. He returned his gaze to Noct, knowing full well something was wrong, something had him distracted - moreso than usual.

“It’s weird.” Noct began slowly, knitting pieces together of what was real and what was not. “We were fighting as usual, and-”

“What? Like, bitching fighting? Or fighting fighting?” he throws a punch to the air as he finishes his sentence.

“Prom? Can you not,” Noct replies, annoyed, losing his train of thought for the _third?_ time. “Fighting, like, with daggers and stuff. Anyway, so I’m not very good at it yet, and Nyx, he -” he freezes, having said the glaive’s name out loud for the first time. Immediately he felt his face grow hot, but continued. “He keeps winning everytime, and I end up on my ass everytime. I got mad, said why bother basically, then he started firing magic at me instead.”

Prompto’s eyes widened a bit, taking Noctis’ silence as an invite, “magic, like spells? Didn’t know the Kingsglaive can use that stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. There are mages specifically, actually. Anyway that took me by surprise, so I got more mad, then I, I uh, started firing back. A lot.”

“Oh no.”

Noct stared deep into his coffee, looking for words. “I lost control. It felt good, to really get angry and just...show him what it was like to lose-”

“Did you hurt him?”

His heart dropped. “No.” he answered as if it was a preposterous thing to ask. “No, he still won. He warped into me to make me stop.”

Prompto was silent a moment. “Wow,” he commented. He sipped at his coffee, nearly slamming it back to the table in reaction to the taste. “Dude, what the hell? How do you drink this stuff….”

Noct ignored him, watching the torrent of rain befall his city. “I can’t go back to train with him again.”

“Huh? Why not?” he watched the Prince with an ever-curious expression. 

“He got pretty pissed at me? And I feel bad, and I was getting nowhere anyway, and it’s like he thinks it’s this game? He looks at me like he’s just there to have fun, or something, and I never know what to say to him, I don’t wanna sound stupid, and like, he’s so? Uggh, all of this is too frustrating to deal with. At least Gladio says shit to me when we’re training. Nyx is,” _something I guess. Nyx. Is Nyx. Nyx, Nyx N-_ “Nyx is weird. Doesn’t say much. Still smiles most of the time, like I’m this joke inside his head. But he’s really…” he trails off, not having realized Prompto was leaning on the table, comically resting his chin on his hands, smiling slightly. “What…? Is your problem,” Noct says, eyes narrowed.

“You’re in love, dude.” he says in a thrilled whisper, eyes sparkling as he grins. 

The statement hit him like a train. 

“N-no? No!” he starts to his feet, circles the table once. Two times. “No…?” Three times.

Prompto is silent, amused, letting his friend come to his own conclusion. 

Noct paced in a shaky line, back and forth hurriedly, not knowing how to stop. “I don’t?” he tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t. 

Prompto interrupted, gesturing at Noct with his - _pretty gross_ \- cup of coffee. “Could be just a crush? But I dunno, to me it seems like both of you have something goin’ on here,”

Noct turns wildly to Prompto, eyes shining a bright, clear blue. “There’s no way he’d like me, I’m pretty sure he hates me,” he said, nearly faster than Prompto could understand. 

Noct paced again, slower, hands clasped at the back of his neck. “No, no no no, no?” he heard his friend laughing from the table, but he couldn’t care. Slowly, he stopped moving, hands covering his face. “Oh my God.” he breathes. _I like the glaive. More...than I should._

“What do I do...?” his voice suddenly small, terrified. 

Prompto shrugs. “I dunno. Jack it and go tell him how you feel?”

“Prompto!” Noct glares, embarrassed. He receives a laugh in response. 

“Dude, I don’t know, but you can’t just stop going to training stuff. And eventually you’ll either tell him or...well, you won’t. All up to you.”

“I think he hates me,” Noct replies, hands forked through his hair. 

“I...kinda doubt it. From what you’ve told me, like, he smiles all the time? He laughs a lot? He _warped into you_ to stop you from hurting yourself? Hmm, maybe he feels the same. Ya never know.”

Noctis felt frozen to the spot, his mind running a mile a minute. He couldn’t stop thinking, thinking of the glaive, the past two weeks, _when did this start?_ he figures yesterday, he figures day one, day four, any of them would do. Apprehensive on closing his eyes for fear of only being able to see _the glai-- Nyx. Oh my god. Nyx_ , those glimmering eyes, _sort of silver, sort of not, sort of everything?_ and that smile, _somehow nice, even if he’s pissed off_ and that voice _always made my heart beat faster and now I guess I know why-_ The world feels small around him, his fear of speaking grows as it feels like his heart leapt up within his chest. All he could hear was the rain, the grey, the wash of pelting drops against the windows.

_What am I supposed to do now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hello Prompto!!!
> 
> \- don't worry Noct, that's how i take my coffee, too. ;-;
> 
> \- things are picking up! I wonder how they're going to deal with this....


	5. Day 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- some mutual awkwardness gets in the way of training. But hey, warping still manages to be fun!

“Maybe you scared him off.”

Nyx glances over at Libertus, trying to hide the pain in his stare. “He’s gotta come back sometime.” he replies after a moment, voice shaking slightly.

“Crowe told me what happened the other day,” he says, planting himself on one of the steps, shaking off his armored hood. He kicked one of his feet against the stone, hoping to clean some of the mud from his boot. The rain from a few days earlier had nearly flooded the flattened training ground, slick mud forming from what was previously dust. Many of the glaives stuck to warping on hangout spots, flying through the air in echoes of gritty laughter. Some fell to the muddy depths below, swearing as they landed, _“how am I gonna get this shit out of my hair!?”_ and _“I just got these fucking boots cleaned!”_

Nyx sat next to Libertus, not saying anything. He simply watched as another glaive fell flat out of the air, causing him to smile slightly. He was waiting for Noctis to arrive; not sure if the Prince would bother coming back since the magic incident. Nyx was still kicking himself mentally for getting so angry. _He could have hurt himself,_ he claimed, not sure if he believed it. 

Libertus didn’t push the topic too much, noting that Nyx wasn’t up to discuss it. The Prince, and everyone involved with him, usually bothered him anyway. “They’re all full of themselves, they don’t care about us, why should we care about ‘em?” he’d often say in defense. Nyx never bothered arguing with him. 

“Surprised no one’s gotten sliced today,” Libertus passively stated, sighing as he leaned against a pillar. Nyx smirked at the idea. 

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen,” he replies flatly.

“What’s with you today?” Libertus looks at him with an eyebrow raised, unused to his tone.

“Hm? Nothing, just waiting to see if I’m actually training someone today,” he scowls into the sky, the washed out blue painting the sky beyond the clouds, scattering across the sun every so often. 

“‘Ey, he’s a Prince, probably got stuff to do,” Libertus says with a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t care who he is.” Nyx snaps defensively in return. It was true. 

Libertus chuckles roughly. “Alright, alright,” he stands with a shrug. “I’m gettin’ nothing done ‘ere today. Gunna go see if Crowe’s around. I’ll catch ya later,” he raises a hand as if to wave, then leaves, Nyx lazily raising a hand to send him off. 

Nyx waits. A few minutes pass, as he stares across the field, reminiscent of when he saw the Prince for the first time on the training field. Head down, looking at no one, _is that really the Prince,_ he remembers thinking, _how come he’s so...shy?_ Noctis fought with a sword first. Nyx saw first thing that he was a skilled fighter, but not so much with daggers. He also noted how short the Prince was, always having to look up when he spoke to the glaive. The thought made him laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” a cold voice broke him from his train of thoughts, startling him. 

_Oh._ He looked up at the Prince, standing before him, glaring with those _why are they always so weirdly bright_ eyes, past strands of wild hair. He stood with a sort of slouch, loose black shirt looking too big for him as it hung around his neck. One gloved hand clenched tightly into a fist, the other bare, pale, hung at his hip. He looked _so tired_. Nyx suddenly felt very anxious, unsure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d show up today,” he offers, quieter than normal, nerves straining.

“Can’t scare me that easily.” Noctis replied bitterly, his eyes betraying how he sounded; they glittered with a _something,_ Nyx decided, but he wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement.

“‘Kay,” Nyx choked out weakly. He stares hard at the ground for a moment before standing up, almost stumbling when he does. “W-hat should we do today then,” he stands with his arms crossed, preventing his chest from bursting. 

“The fuck should I know?” Noct replied awkwardly, Nyx swearing he could hear his voice rise in pitch as he cursed. 

“Uhh,”

“Sorry.” the Prince looked at the ground.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs heavily, exhaling his nervousness. “I don’t wanna make you fight in that today,” he nods toward the mud-soaked field. “I was thinking we could do some more air stuff, if you want, um, like, hangout warping?” 

Noct looks up at him for a second, fear shielding his face. “Sounds” his voice breaking, “good.” 

Nyx just nods, trying not to look at the Prince. “Just remember to focus,” he says, more to himself than to Noctis. “Yup,” Noct simply replies, summoning a dagger. Ready.

_Ready._

_focus._

Something Nyx was continually thankful for was being able to completely shut his mind off when he needed to focus on fighting or warping. He supposed he was trained that way, that no matter _what_ , he could prioritize what he needed without worrying about distractions. Fully calm, he summoned his weapons and threw one to the middle of a nearby pillar, launching himself to it. Another second, he blinked into reality, looking down at the Prince as he hung off of the rock with his blade. With his free arm, he pointed to a pillar nearest him. “Try that one,” he calls out. 

Noctis nods, thankful that the glaive can’t see him shaking. _I’ll show him,_ he thinks for a moment. _I’ll show him I can do this._

And he does. Focusing as best as he can manage, he fires a dagger with a quick movement in his wrist, jumping into the air shortly after. He’s smiling as he hangs from the pillar of stone, sun highlighting a halo in his hair, eyes shining - 

Nyx can’t help but stare, trying to focus on the dagger holding him in the air but able to look at nothing but the expanse of pale skin beneath a loose shirt, visible thanks to the Prince’s lifted arms, one gripped to the dagger jutting out of the rock, the other shielding his eyes from the sun. Nyx shook his head, unable to get the image out of his mind, suddenly wanting to see _more of that, please,_ almost swearing to himself out loud before finally looking away.

“I’ll trade you,” he calls over his shoulder. “Try to warp to the top here, so you can stand on it,” he points above him, to the flat surface of rock at a nice - broken off - angle to land upon. “And I’ll land over there,” he points to Noctis. 

“Wait,” he hears the Prince call. “How?”

“What do you mean ‘how’!?”

“Other dagger, or do I take this one out and warp mid-air? Idiot,” Noctis replies, voice odd, almost angry, but something else, too. He was trying to hide a smile. 

“Whatever you feel most comfortable with,” Nyx says, never having thought about it. He summons his left dagger, throwing it to the top of his targeted pillar. He soon appears kneeling on the rough cut of stone, staring down at the Prince with a grin. He can’t help but stare at the bright blue of his eyes, noticing for the first time the slender angles of his face, framed by messy strands of midnight black hair. 

“What’re you smiling about?” Noct says flatly, breaths short.

Nyx felt good. Warping around, training again felt normal, nervousness washed away. “The view from up here isn’t bad,” he replies, still grinning. 

Noct blushed hard, looking away. Scowling, he warps to the opposite pillar, leaving Nyx laughing. The laughter echoes into the phasing void, carrying him like a song.

He lands with a tumble, enough room on the top of the stone to caress him safely as he rolls, cursing.

“You alright over there?” he hears, waving an arm before getting up, and flipping Nyx off before he drops his hand. He hears that laughter again. 

“Are we done? You wanna keep going?”

“Yeah!” Noctis feels a bit bruised from the landing, but stands. 

“Okay, try over there,” Nyx points to a pillar a ways across the field, maybe a hundred feet from the Prince.

“Alright,” Noctis says to himself as he nods, feeling a new energy within him, feeling like he could warp anywhere. He focuses as best he can, launching himself to said target. Everything in the phase void turning beautiful, twisted sceneries tinged in blue, time feeling slowed, even stopped, as he threw himself across the air. He landed kneeling on the stone, warping nearly perfectly. He raised his arms, victorious, cheering at himself. 

Nyx laughs as he watches, seeing the Prince in a brand new light, his eyes alight in wonder. He cheers Noct back, shouting “nice one!” across the field. He warps one, two, three times to catch up with the Prince. 

“I could do this all day!” Noct says, eyes on fire.

Nyx warps again to meet him on the same pillar, kneeling on the sun baked rock. “Just be careful, stasis happens fast. Last thing you want is to be stranded in the air.” 

Noctis nods, sitting back, relaxed. “Like the other day,” he begins. Nyx looked at him thoughtfully, saying nothing. “I fucked up,”

“Kinda.” a quiet response.

“Sorry.”

Nyx waved his hand passively, brushing it off. “Don’t think about it. It happens.”

Noctis was silent, looking out onto Insomnia. It was later in the day, the sun already beginning to settle behind some of the taller buildings in the city. Haloes of light danced through the fractals of the Wall, silhouetting half of the city, throwing long shadows upon the field. Clouds were building slowly upon the horizon, making their way into the city limits. Together, the Prince and the glaive sat on the roughly cut stone, not having realized the other glaives had gone for the day. Time had passed like a dream. 

“Pretty cool up here,” he says after a while.

Nyx barely heard him. His thoughts were trapped within the horizon of Insomnia, his nervous, anxious feeling crept back into his mind. He closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his skin, a light smile on his lips. He sat a few feet away from the Prince, but wanted nothing more than to pull him closer, to hold him as the sun set behind the Wall, to - 

“Nyx,” he heard. His heart stopping at the sound of his name, hesitating to answer, in hopes that he’d say it again. _And again, again, agai-_

“Hm?” he looked over, at the Prince, who was blushing up at him. _Was he watching me sit here?_

“Um,” he noticed the Prince was leaning closer as he spoke, “Thanks for putting up with me, I guess.”

“Where’d that come from?” 

“Nevermind,” he shook his head with a small smile. “So, where do we go from here?” he stood up, changing the subject. _Back to training._

Nyx stood alongside him. “Well, we can go back to the ground, if you want. Or we can keep going. Over there,” he points to some more columns, grouped together a few hundred feet away. “Or there,” where they had started. Behind, taller pillars towered, nearly twice in height of the one they stood upon, already quite high off the ground.

“Let’s go up there,” Noct says, pointing to the tallest one he could see.

“Noctis,” Nyx holds a hand out to stop him. “Let’s...stay away from that,”

“Why?”

“It’s difficult to warp upward. Especially that high,” he replies as he nods toward the looming stone. 

“Oh come on, I could do it,” Noct shrugs, daggers already in his hands.

“Noctis. Don’t.”

But he was gone, warping to the nearest pillar, and then the next, and then farther and farther away. A mild sense of panic encroaching, Nyx chased after him, warping across the towering rock, finding it difficult to focus. “Noctis!” his voice raised, wild, shaking, _please-_

He was close to catching up, phasing through blue, purple, catching up to beautiful silhouettes with glowing eyes and wild hair, which disappeared as soon as he reached them. He felt his own stasis approaching, unable to imagine how the Prince was feeling. He forced himself to slow down, trying to see where Noctis was. He looked up, saw the Prince hanging out of a pillar just above the glaive. 

“Noctis, why are you trying to do this?”

“I’m gunna show you I’m not useless-” he gasped back between breaths, waiting for a recovery from stasis.

_What?_ “What?! Noctis- you’re not - please, just come down, you’re not gonna make it up there, please -”

But a flash of blue reflected in his grey eyes, and Noct disappeared. He watched his silhouette fly upward, toward the next pillar, back arched like an angel in flight. Nyx thought for a moment he would make it, amazed. The figure scaled the air higher still, spinning like a dream, highlighted by the sun's final rays. Suddenly, the figure twisted, and Nyx watched as it froze oddly, contorted sickly in mid-air. 

Nyx heard a scream that made his blood run cold. 

Noctis’ body flickered back into reality, one dagger in his hand, the other flying past him. A thin spray of red followed the blade, ripping itself into Nyx’s heart at the sight. _No. No. No. No. No-_

Through his own blood, the Prince was falling fast, headfirst to the ground below. _Sliced._

_”Noctis-!”_ was ripped from his throat, his whole world crumbling before his eyes.

Nyx didn’t think. Only moved with the pull of his heartstrings, warping through whatever frame of time existed in order to catch the Prince - _my Prince_ \- from falling to his death. He threw a dagger downward, past Noctis, jumping after it like it were second nature. But he didn’t bother to see where the dagger went. Rather, he phased through the twisted void, time slower than before. He caught - caressed - Noctis as carefully as he could manage while falling to the ground, embracing him fully in his arms. _Blood everywhere,_ he noted as he looked at the wound; a full, long, deep cut from Noctis’ shoulder to his hip on his left side, shirt fully torn apart by the blade. Nyx pulled him close as gently as he could within the void, caressing the back of his head in his hand, the other one readying to warp again. _He’s so cold, I’m so stupid, I’m so -_

Nyx tossed a dagger at the ground, holding onto the Prince as tightly as he could without hurting him as they landed; Nyx hitting the ground with his knees, holding Noctis’ head to his chest, his body limp. Nyx held shut his eyes, terrified to see what had happened to the Prince in full reality. 

But there he was. He lay sprawled on the glaive's lap, darkness of the deep evening settling on them both. He seemed out cold, a slice of deep red settling into his ribs, his shoulder, his _everything_ , royal blood dripping into the mud surrounding them. He wasn’t able to tell how deep the cut was, unable to focus on much of anything at the sight of _why is there so much blood-_ He could feel the Prince breathing - struggling to breathe - against him, entire body shaking in effort. Nyx cried, shouted at the top of his voice, for someone, anyone, to help, _help, please, Noctis is-_

“Ngh,” he heard against his chest. _Noctis._

“Noctis,” Nyx lowered him slowly, staring at him in shielded panic. “Stay with me, alright? You’re alright, you’re alright, you’re-” he stopped, choking on his words, feeling tears on his face. 

“You’re.....” Noct moved his arm slowly, lifting it to the glaive’s chest. “Covered in...blood,” he rested his hand on the glaive’s heavy coat, splashes of red decorating the silver details. He tried to grip into the fabric, pull Nyx closer, his heavy eyes full of shock, slow tears flowing from the oceans within them; his breaths were slow, shallow, panicked. Nyx wiped the tears away with the back of his free hand, then held fast to the hand shakily gripped into his own coat, blood on both. He tried to smile in reassurance, but a sob broke out instead. He cursed himself for becoming so vulnerable. 

“Noctis, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, it’s okay-” he looked wildly around, seeing some glaives running frantically toward them. “We’re getting help, you’re gonna be fine,”

“No?” a pitiful sound, little more than a whisper escaped him. 

“Yes, little king, everything’s gonna be-” _little king?_

Noctis held his wound, hand caked in thick, dark red. His eyes widened at Nyx’s voice, sparkling with shock and fear. “I’m gunna die, Nyx-” he cried, with a voice that broke the glaive’s heart.

“No, no, no - no - you’re not,” but all he could see was vast red across the pale skin, clouding everything else he had ever seen; Nyx felt sick, trembling as he tried to make them both believe in something that felt far away. He tried to look at the wound, knowing it _shouldn’t_ be that deep, that it wouldn’t be fatal, but the _blood - everywhere_ terrified him like nothing ever had before. 

“I’m sorry- I should - have listened to you,” a weak voice stuttered. Noct’s head fell to the side, strength gone. Nyx wanted to hold the Prince more than anything. But never, ever like this. 

“Noctis! Please, stay with me, okay?” He bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming. Very gently, slowly, ignoring his fear, he lifted the Prince into his arms, both of them messy with blood. He held the Prince close to his chest, kissing his forehead softly as he stood. Glaives soon joined his side, not saying a word, instead leading the way inside the Citadel where the Prince could be helped as quickly as possible. They knew exactly what had happened. Plenty of them had seen slicing before. Plenty of them had seen glaives fall out of the air with a dagger lodged into their side, their leg, their stomach; rarely had they seen a dagger drag through its victim. Their eyes were sombre and fearful, expressions pained. No one said anything about the blood and the tears staining Nyx’s face, his grey eyes stark in contrast. No one said anything about the Prince’s shallow breaths, weakening with each second as together they walked with careful speed into the Citadel. 

It felt, in that moment, that all of Insomnia held its breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Now you know why I included so many warp descriptions a few chapters ago...hopefully that foreshadowing made sense. 
> 
> \- thank you so much for reading. please let me know what you're thinking so far! 
> 
>  
> 
> \- [SPOILER] ------ this fic does not have a bad ending. There are many, many more chapters to come.


	6. Day 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Noct slowly becomes more miserable in his state of recovery. But hey, at least you survived!
> 
> \- quit pining already!

\-----

A whir of memories, all having to do with the glaive, repeated themselves over and over as the slow days progressed. He couldn’t remember if everything that had happened had been real or not, like some kind of twisted dream that sank into the pit of his mind. He spent a day or two unconscious as groups of mages and doctors assisted the wound. Potentially fatal? He wasn’t quite sure what he had heard. Only knew he was terrified, and that his self-hatred grew with the knowledge that _you didn’t have to do that at all, you idiot._ Had it not been for the glaive, many around him agreed, the Prince would have fallen to his death. But where was he?

He remembered seeing that face terrified, the one he grew to adore so much. _It’s my fault for you looking at me like that,_ he wanted to say, feeling too much warmth fill his lungs to be able to speak more than a few sad words, _I’m gunna die, Nyx._

_I’m gunna die._

He felt the magic at his wound, doctors and mages confronting the blood with every available tool and resource they had. He was too weak to react, strength sapped by the fluid slice of the warp. He saw the astrals in his eyes, who cursed him for being a fool - in more ways than one - but comforted him in a way that reassured his fate. 

He was not going to die. 

His vision blurred for some time. Whether it was hours or days, he wasn’t sure how long he looked at those steel eyes, hearing nothing but subtle and slow _beeps_ from a machine close to him. He could feel a warm hand upon his wrist, rough skin in a gentle grip, as if to make sure his pulse was still there. The pain in his eyes, the pain, the guilt that he could see, nearly hurt his heart more than the physical wound. _I just wanted to prove to you --_

_“You are not meant to love,”_ a deep, rolling voice confronted him within the darkening void, _“and yet it is why you approach the edge of Life and of Death.”_ He remembered the hatred he felt toward them, wanting to throw daggers into those piercing blue eyes of the God, _how can you just say things like that?_

He gazed at the spinning circle of Astrals around him, barely able to understand their warnings, their disdain for _the glaive_ , their -

_”Please..,don’t...hurt him,”_ he remembers begging pitifully as he lay beneath the forms of heavenly blue light. The last thing he wanted was for Nyx to be held guilty for something he could not control.

_“He is nothing.”_

_“No….”_

 

\-----

 

Noctis lay on the stiff couch in his apartment, apathetic toward the rain hitting the window in a gentle torrent. He left arm lay off the couch, hand hanging near the floor. He was shirtless; bandaged from his armpits to his hips as if in a medical corset, limiting his movement greatly. It took effort to sit up, to lift his arms -most notably the left - especially difficult to hold anything, his grip and his nerves shot from the incident. 

He played the day over in his head like a broken record. He discovered how much fun warping could really be, going through the air with the glaive like running through a dream. The sunshine bled through oncoming clouds, highlighting the scene beneath them in something like a saviour’s gold. But the sun fell as he did, plummeting into a dark grey, crumbling out of a fabricated bloom of victory, fragmenting into the arms of a glaive with a broken heart. Flecks of brittle blue splashed his vision after the slice, leaving him unsure of where the phase ended and where reality began. Was it real, he wondered, as Nyx held him so gently, so closely, caressing him and his blood as he spoke in tones that broke his heart. Was it real?- when he lifted him from the blood-soaked ground, kissing him lightly above his brow, tears flooding in his fading grey eyes. 

“I’m a _fucking_ idiot,” he exhales angrily, crossing his right arm over his chest, leaving the left _why bother_ hang to the side. His right hand instinctively gripped around his ribcage, at his wound, as he winced. “What a great impression I’ve made,” he reflects upon himself as he stares into the ceiling, its heavy paleness sinking into Noct like a fog on his lungs. His hand unconsciously flattens against the bandages, feels around cautiously at the protected wound. He scowled at the scar he knew he would have after this, the gash eventually leaving a line of soft pink from his shoulder to his hip. He was thankful that the wound was healing so quickly; the Citadel’s supply of medical and magical aid was an endless resource, many citizens within the Wall spending their lives training to protect _a stupid kid._ He sighs, eyes glazed as he stares aimlessly around the apartment. The wound was healing fast, but it was sore, causing Noct to be mostly bedridden as the recovery took its course.

He spent a lot of time asleep, which wasn't much of a change from his usual habit. It was not, however, sleep in the usual sense, sprawled out across the bed, mouth hanging open in a lazy snore, blankets tangled around his limbs. Rather, he felt restless, uncomfortable; the bandage was too tight, the wound still painful, and every part of his body sore from the strain of the fall. He would wake in the night and not bother trying to sleep again, instead he would call Prompto, notorious for being awake at horrible hours. Other times, he’d talk to Ignis, who he could depend on for calming conversations. Even Gladio - along with his sister - had come to check in on him, making sure that he had survived. Gladio seemed strangely protective, maybe just proud, of Noct, and he seemed oddly emotional when he spoke to him. Most of the time, Noct spent alone, as he preferred, his mind troubling him with thoughts of the glaive. He often thought about how he had reacted to his fall, catching him, carrying him, but… _I haven’t heard from him since. Whatever,_ he sighs inwardly, angry at himself, tired. He hadn’t a full night’s sleep since the incident, vivid dreams of being _torn apart_ shocking him awake in a cold sweat. Noctis was sure he never wanted to warp again. All he could think of was looking at the glaive, illuminated by the setting sun over the city, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace him, pin him to the warm stone of the sunlit pillar, apologize without words for being so cold to him for so long. Instead, he pushed himself away, warping as far as he could from the thought, wanting to prove that - 

“I almost killed myself,” he rests his hand over his eyes, wanting to scream, upset with himself, angrier that he had not heard anything from the glaive. “He hates me. He hates me so much.”

\-----

Nyx sat with Crowe at the edge of the training field, both of them wearing blank stares as they watched the mages train on an unusually quiet afternoon. The rain had given up for the day, torrents slowing to a drizzling halt as clouds thinned apart to the horizon. The combat glaives had taken some time off, many being sent out on small recon jobs where they’d be away for two or three days at a time. Libertus took off with a small group, heading as far as the Liede border; this elicited a large whine from Libertus, swearing at the _fuckin’ desert heat._ The mages had the entire field to themselves, much to their joy. They bled into the field in blurs, honing their skill with the addition of dash-warping and spell casting all in one. 

Nyx felt sick at watching the warp strikes that went _a little too high,_ waiting for each one to let out a scream that would freeze his blood again. 

Crowe could see the anxiety upon his face. “Go home, man,” she started. 

Nyx said nothing, shook his head. Being here was better than being alone. 

He felt a light touch at his arm. Crowe looked at him the way she always would; eyes bright like the sun, a flare of concern in each, a small sense of comfort in her small half-smile. “Please talk to me about this. You’ve been really weird ever since...it happened.”

Nyx looked away, to the glaives, the _screaming_ glaives, instead at the ground, _the bloody ground, mud coloured black-_ to his hands, _covered in royal blood, that feeling’s never gunna go away is it?_ He looked to the sky, at least finding comfort in the soft blue, thinking of how the Prince stared at him as they sat together on the edge of Insomnia. Thinking if he had just held him, if he had just talked to him, _none of this would have happened. He could have died-_

“You awake in there?” Crowe’s voice called out, feeling much more distant than it was. 

“I - yeah,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, “Can’t get it out of my head.”

“Why are you here? It’s the worst place for you to be,” 

“I didn’t, I can’t be at home. Sounds stupid. When I’m alone the day just plays over in my head. I could have stopped him, and I should have-”

“No. I don’t know if you could have,” she stood up, grabbing the glaive by his arm. “Come on, let’s get drinks or something. I can’t have you sit here like this all day.” 

Nyx followed aimlessly, but the distraction of walking helped clear his head. He and Crowe ended up at their usual spot, a small, hidden away counter-bar deep in the busy streets of Insomnia. Away from the Citadel, the Prince, the _nightmare._ Crowe ordered them her usual, two small mugs of gritty _something_ that really only tasted _okay_ at best. They took some quiet seats near the counter, but said nothing for a while. 

“I was there, you know,” she sighs finally. Nyx knew; the best mages in the Kingsglaive were gathered to aid with healing duties whenever extra help was necessary. The incident required every available mage, as they were told _”the Lucian Prince is in critical condition. All mages respond to the emergency medical ward within the left wing of the Citadel as soon as humanly possible. Time is of the utmost importance.”_ The alert continued to ring in Crowe’s mind as she watched the Prince writhe, unconscious, beneath healing light of several mages circled around him like a halo. She remembered his eyes, the oceans deep within them settling into a dark calm as he faded out of reality; _no wonder Nyx fell for this guy,_ she remembered with a smile. She tried to smile at him then too, to assure him _everything’s fine,_ like doctors are supposed to do, but the look in his eyes signified a deep fear and sadness. _It was almost pitiful,_ she thought. She had wanted to cry. 

“He’s okay, you know that right?” 

“I knew he’d be fine.” was all he said, glaring hard into his drink.

“Then what’s-”

“I can’t get that day out of my head. That scream, the blood...the blood,” he rests his face in his hands. “I’ve seen shit like that before, but I know I could have stopped this,” 

“Nyx,” Crowe sighs. “The Prince is...something else. Lucians have god-given power, what if you actually stopped him? What if he hurt you instead?” 

It wasn’t something he had considered. He thought back to the fight they had with spells, where he called Noctis’ name, _over and over again,_ but nothing could stop him. He was out of control. “You might be right,” he admitted. “That day with the magic-”

“I was thinking that too.” she sips at her mug and makes a face into the muddy liquid. Worse than usual.

Nyx was silent. It had been nearly a week since the injury had occurred. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Prince, _the stupid Prince,_ and if he was alright now. After the accident, he didn’t want to leave his side, feeling an odd clinginess toward him. He had stayed at Noctis’ side until the mages had shown up to help him, but still watched as they worked; the halo glow of light surrounding the Prince almost angelic, godlike in an image the glaive would not forget. Eventually he found himself outside the Citadel, explaining things to His Majesty, who only nodded along in a solemn fashion, seeming to understand the Prince’s loss of control. The glaive then stumbled home, not acknowledging the broken sobs releasing from his chest as he collapsed into a feverish sleep. Since then, he had been wandering into the training field every day, but stopping every time at the stone steps, unsure of what to do with himself. Other glaives took note, telling him to take a while to recollect, to relax, that dealing with a slice that gruesome was difficult for anyone to witness. 

_But what about the Prince?_ he would think, wondering why no one considered how much pain he was in. Nyx wanted to know, was dying to know, how he had been recovering.

“Have you heard anything? About how he is?” he asked suddenly.

“Why would I have?” Crowe replied, eyebrow arched in curiosity.

“I dunno, you, helped heal him, and...nevermind,” he gives up. He wasn’t sure if he’d see the Prince again. He tried telling himself that it was probably for the best, anyway. 

He knew it wasn’t true. 

“I wish I knew. He seemed so...fragile. I know he’s fine now, but at the time….” she trails off, seeing the pain in her friend’s eyes at the word. “You should go see him.” she suggests.

Nyx scowled slightly, “why?” 

Crowe smirked. “I know how you feel about him. Anyone else and you’d be over this by now. You’ve seen gruesome shit before. But you’re...shaken up about this, still. I can see it in your eyes, Ulric.” she finished her drink, grimacing as she did. 

Nyx knew there was no point in arguing with her. He watched her type something into her phone, waited for a reply, then smiled; “here, I’ll send this to you.” 

Nyx waited, watched as his phone screen lit up. He glanced at the message, then quickly at the mage. “Where did you…?” 

“Not important,” she waves. Story for another day, Nyx supposed. He looked at the message again: an address. “Just go.”

Nyx felt his nerves tense at the thought, suddenly unsure of if he would be able to move. “What if….” he began, a hundred and more questions springing to his mind. 

“You don’t know. You won’t until it’s too late. But I think you’ll regret it if you don’t go and see him.” Nyx knew she was right. 

“Does the shop have an extra bike lying around,” he states, voice suddenly breaking with little effort. Crowe smiles again.

“Should have,” she replies. Without another word they left the dusky bar, toward ‘the shop’; an under-the-counter repair and rental shop that hooked up with some of the Kingsglaive a long time ago. It had all involved some sort of deal Nyx wasn’t totally sure of, something to do with ensured protection of the place in trade for usage permissions, he figured. The secret partnership between the glaives and the shop was unknown to anyone else, noting especially those within the Citadel. But Nyx didn’t really mind the weird deal, as long as he could use their equipment every so often. The shop dealt with sketchy refurbished cars and motorcycles mostly, the latter of which Nyx - and most glaives - preferred. They arrived at the shop, the area dusty, cold, and dark - hidden away from the usual citizen eye. The entire place, though small, seemed spacious throughout its dusty interior, a few single lightbulbs hanging from frayed wires illuminated lone spots throughout. A tall, muscled figure leaned against a counter made of scrap parts, and waved at the glaives as they approached. A cigarette hung from their mouth, and was long burned out.

“How’s it hangin’ today?” they said, voice sounding as rough as the place looked. 

Nyx shrugged, Crowe smiled as she answered a simple, fine, how are you? as Nyx wandered around. He faded out of the conversation as he walked over to his usual bike. 

“Gunna fall apart one of these days, Ulric,” the shopkeeper said to him as they gestured toward the motorcycle. It looked as if it were crafted from parts of many other machines before it, rusted in many areas, sorely welded together in other important-looking spots. 

“As long as it still works, it’s fine,” he replied with a small, anxious grin.

“True enough,” the keeper replied, tossing Nyx a small set of keys. They were never one for conversation, not with Nyx anyway; Crowe on the other hand, continued conversation as Nyx prepared to leave. “Careful out there,” she sent him off with a wink, to which he shook his head with a “whatever” in reply. His heart raced as he fired up the bike, kicking the machine into gear as he sped off. The low evening lights of Insomnia gave life to the streets, the city itself transforming into a celestial being. 

\-----

Noct sighed as the day fell, still lay upon the hard couch. He never bothered with the lights, he never bothered to settle the hunger in his stomach, nor anything else. A strange sort of misery settled upon him, straining his energy. 

A knock at the door made him scowl _who are you?_  as he painfully got up from the couch, wincing as he did, holding his bandages lightly as if the motion would somehow help. _It’s not Ignis,_ he considered, as he had had a call from him earlier in the day. _”Noct, how are you feeling?” “fine.” “Fine? Good.” “I guess,”_ the conversation blurred into painstaking details about household details; food, laundry, food again, what was Prompto doing because he called me the other day, I won’t be over later because Gladio called and--

He liked listening to Ignis over the phone, for some reason. His needless details were somehow calming to listen to, in an odd way. 

Noct stumbled over to the door, not bothering to find a shirt, _the bandage covers enough anyway,_ he figured, thinking it was Prompto or someone similar coming to check up on him. He fidgeted with the door’s lock, the mechanism _clicking_ softly as he opened it.

The glaive stood before him, looking down at Noct, _his eyes are -- I can’t do th--- what is he doing here??_ Part of him wanted to slam the door back into place, but he froze.

“Uhh, how did you?” he asked suddenly, words stumbling into each other a bit.

“Crowe? One of the mages, she?” Nyx replied hurriedly. Noct had no idea what he said. 

“Okay. Uh, hello…?”

“Hey,” the glaive replied with a voice so soft it almost killed him. 

“Did you....need something?” Noct managed, backing away from the door to allow Nyx inside.

“Just,” he replied, stepping forward a bit, standing with his hands behind his back as usual. “Wanted to see how you’re doing.” Noctis took note of how Nyx stared at him, making him feel oddly self-conscious despite the bandages covering him. 

“I’m okay.” he exhaled a sigh, willing his nervousness away. “Miserable, but, okay.”

Nyx just nods, still standing in the doorway. 

_I can’t believe he’s here - but, dammit, I think he’s-_ Noct notices his turn to leave, and stops him, “did you want to come in for a bit? I can’t imagine you came all the way here to ask me a question?” he stammered, his dialogue running in pieces. “Can I get you a coffee, or, or something?” 

The glaive nods again, closing the door behind him.

With great effort in both nerves and physical pain, Noct moves to the counter. “Uhm, I, uh,” he tries. Nyx just stares at him, standing a few feet away, _but all I can see are those eyes-_

Noct turns away as he clicks the kettle on, sighing again. He looks back, and begins. “I’m sorry.” 

“Listen, we don’t have to-” 

“I do. I - was so stupid - I did this, I don’t know why, but now I’m like this,” he gestures to his waist, “and you’re - you’re….” he looks at the cold tile of the floor, shiny black. “I put you through that.”

“Your Highn-” Nyx began, unsure of why he didn’t - couldn’t - say his name.

“Please don’t,” he interrupted, voice cracking slightly under the weight of the plea. “Please not that shit again.”

Nyx simply nods in response. 

Silence ensues, Noct too aware of Nyx _just standing there_ as he distracts himself with coffee, feeling the glaive’s eyes burning into his back. “I’m not like, forcing you to stay here, you know,” he blurts out.

“I know,” a quiet reply. Noct thought there was something somber about it.

“Then what...I mean, are you just gunna stand there?” he turns around to face him. “I know you have something to say to me. I know you’re pissed off. Where is it?” his voice shakes, threatening to crumble into pieces. 

Nyx closes his eyes, facing toward the floor. “I should have stopped you. I could have - somehow?” was all he said. His voice guilt-ridden and weak; no anger there.

Noctis feels his heart break as he hears the rising, uneven, uncertain tone in the glaive’s voice, one that he’s never heard before. “You’re not-”

“Why did you do it?” was the one thing Noctis didn’t want to hear. 

Forgetting the coffee, he stepped forward, as if a podium had been placed before him. _Speak._ “I don’t know-”

“That’s a lie,” he sounded hurt.

“I know.” _I can’t do this. I can’t tell him. I can’t-_

“Noctis,” the glaive says his name like it’s the only word he knows. He looks at him with sad eyes, trying to scowl, trying to show anger, but _can’t_.

“I was stupid, okay? I was just, trying to, I dunno, show off? I just wanted to prove to you -- I could do this -- stupid warp, I never want to warp again, I - I can’t-”

“Why?”

“How do I know I won’t actually kill myself next time?” he snapped, immediately regretting his words at the sight of the pain in the glaive’s eyes.  “I’m, fuck, I-”

“Don’t. I know how you feel.” he pats himself on the left side of his ribcage. “I sliced myself pretty good back when I started, too.” it wasn’t a lie, but it was nowhere near as bad as the Prince’s wound. Yet somehow, talking about it helped calm himself. “You’re okay. I’m not saying you go back to training and start warping around again, just, take it slower next time.”

“It’s terrifying. It was so terrifying.”

“It was.” Nyx agreed, afraid to blink at seeing Noct replaced with an image of blood. The Prince looked up at him, stepping closer. His eyes shone like a sky at dusk, as if the gods lived within them. 

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. 

“Noctis, don’t worry about it. Like I said, it happens.”

“No. This...doesn’t just happen,” he struggled. Nyx silently agreed, but knew not else what to say.

Noctis leaned against the nearest wall, close to the door. He sighed through a shock of pain. Nyx’s eyes widened with worry, approaching him. “Do you want to sit down?” he asks. Noct shakes his head.    

“I don’t want to make you stay longer than you want to,” he replies, rolling his eyes a bit, frustrated more with himself. 

“No, I don’t-”

“And I get that, if you want me to train with someone else? I can just, not come back, or,” he stopped, staring at the tile. “All I’ve done is cause trouble with you.”

Nyx’s heart stopped at the idea. “No,” he immediately said. 

But Noctis continued. “I ruined everything. I mean, nothing was really there, but, I kinda thought we - but I understand if you hate me because of this. Why wouldn’t you?” he stared up at the glaive, who was closer than before. Deep oceans flooded in Noct’s eyes. 

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried,” he answered, voice warm. “And I have. It would make this a lot easier,”

“Nyx?” barely a whisper, but it was all he needed.

The glaive closed the distance between them, left hand gently gripping around Noct’s side, the other caressing his face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone lightly. He kissed softly at first, as gently as he could manage. Noct’s eyes widened in response, his heart strung tightly, unable to register what was happening. His eyes fluttered closed at the thought of _finally,_ as he relaxed, resting his right arm upon the one that embraced him, his left being too painful to move. _Is this...real?_ To make sure, he squeezed the glaive’s arm, memorizing the texture of his coat, running his hand along silver details. Nyx hummed low as he deepened the kiss, leaning closer to the Prince, his body pressed against the wall. Noct allowed himself into the other’s arms wholly embracing him as he kissed back harder, daring, pressing his tongue gently against the glaive’s lips, who hummed again, pulling away. 

“What….” Noct tried, unable to process his thoughts. He found it difficult to breathe, chest pounding.

“I’m sorry, that was….” he said quietly, brow pressed against the Prince’s forehead. 

“No, it’s okay,” he assured softly. _I’m not really sure if this is happening,_ he smiles slowly as the thought crosses his mind. He lifts his hand to the glaive’s face, lightly touching the mark - _tattoo?_ \- beneath his eye. Nyx just stares in return, his expression stoic, eyes melting silver into the Prince’s heart. Noctis didn’t know how he was feeling, couldn’t tell by his face. His mind raced, wondering how this happened; he thought back to the accident, how Nyx had held him as he bled out, how he had stayed there with him when--or had he?

“Nyx,” he began slowly, feeling dazed as he rested his head on the glaive’s chest. “Did you...were you there with me, in the Citadel? Did I dream that?” he wonders more to himself.

“No, I was there,” a slow, soft answer. “I stayed there until the mages kicked me out,” 

“Why?”

“You know why,” he pulls away to look at him, smiling as he does. “I needed to make sure you were fine. Not everyone can pull through something like that,” he’s honest, and it hurts Noct’s heart a little as he says it. He doesn’t know what to say in return, so he doesn’t bother, pulling him down into another slow kiss instead. _It’s like a dream,_ he thinks. _Like the gods kept me alive through that only to kill me here._

“Did you kiss me then, too?” he wonders as they part, remembering the soft touch upon his brow as he faded out of consciousness.

“Not like this,” the glaive grins a bit, seeming nervous, his movements shaky as he embraces his Prince, both arms around him. He takes extra care to not come close to his wounded side, brushing the bandages on his back lightly with his fingers. They are both still for a moment, as if to take each other in. The entire world may have fallen apart around them, but nothing else mattered. Nyx closed his eyes, cursing himself for _how much_ he wanted to stay like this. He kisses Noct once more, gently, then pulls away. “I hate to do this,” he says, voice on a wire. “But I have to go,” he gestures to the dark outside.

“Please stay,” Noct says it before he can stop himself. He feels his face redden.

“I can’t,” Nyx smiles, his eyes a bit sad, his heart on fire. 

Noct nodded, staring at the floor. _I know._ Embarrassed, he watched as Nyx moved toward the door, opening it with a painful _click_.

“Can I...still train with you after all this?” he asks, feeling childish, but needing to know.

“Anytime you want, little king.” he says with a smile as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ...FINALLY. 
> 
> \- thank you for reading this far!
> 
> -questions or anything else? best way to reach me is over at Twitter! (@animaswickedson)


	7. Day 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Noct's wound is almost healed; he gets some advice (? that's debatable) from Prompto. Nyx broods alone. Ugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- bit of a dialogue heavy chapter, but I hope you enjoy!

_There’s so much I want to tell you._  
   
_“What is it?”_  
   
_Or something. Why did you--how did you find me here?_  
   
_He stares amidst the vast, deep blue. Like standing in the sea. Waves of celestial light caressed him. Everything felt so calm, so still._  
   
_“You’re so -”_  
   
_What?_  
   
_“Little king-”_  
   
_I kinda like that. It’s weird but it’s...really nice, coming from you. (Say it again. Please.)_  
   
_“Did I make you jump up there, only to fall into my arms?”_  
   
_Tears fell from his eyes as he tried to answer: no. No! It wasn’t you…_  
   
_“You should have kissed me instead.”_  
   
_I know. I wanted to. But you-_  
   
_“Can the gods control you?”_  
   
_(What?) (What?)_  
   
_Wh…_  
   
_“Could you hear me, when I called your name? I ran into shadows of you, blue silhouettes, the most damned beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And your name - your name, it follows me still. Your name-”_  
   
_Stop._  
   
_“I wanna say it while you-”_  
   
_Stop! (wait)_  
   
_An echo of musical laughter followed him into darkness. -_  
   
\-----  
For the first time in what felt like ages, Noct slept through most of the night normally. The bandaged cast still bothered him immensely, forever thankful it was coming off soon. _It’s so fucking itchy, _he scowls at it as he sits up in bed, frustrated. He glances outside, the dim light catching the curtains in a strange, muffled embrace. _Rain again.___  
   
He lies back for a while, his mind like wildfire. What the dream was about, he wasn’t quite sure, just remembers the slow, swirling atmosphere that felt almost suffocating as he tried to see the glaive through the void. Nothing. Just a strange version of his voice leaking into noise, making the Prince’s heart ache.  
   
_But the kiss was real._  
   
He had thought of nothing else since. Since that moment the world had blurred and time had felt slow, seconds counted in the beats of his heart, _one, two, one, two, one, I didn't know it was possible to feel this way, two, I think the astrals want to kill me, one, -_ he thought of the way Nyx held him so carefully as if he would break, but so closely at the same time; one hand caressing his unwounded side, the other cupped to his face, eventually scaling down the tendons of his neck to his shoulder. Noct swore he could still feel the touch, or he had at least memorized the way it felt; _like nothing ever had before -_  
   
He felt embarrassed at wanting so badly for the glaive to have stayed, but didn’t believe otherwise. He still wanted it, letting his mind wander to what could have happened. He thought of the glaive’s kiss, how he longed for more, for the kisses to trail his jawline, down his neck, his chest, his- _god, I just want that feeling all over me,_ he sighs, face in his hands. He wanted to have done more, damning himself for the injury, the bandages constricting him, how he wasn’t able to pull Nyx closer with all the strength he wanted to have had. After Nyx had gone, however, Noct found himself unable to move for some time, still finding himself unable to process what had taken place. He wanted nothing more than to experience that feeling again and again, but even so….  
   
Something in his mind tore at his heart, indecisiveness clawing at the beautiful memory. _What’s going to happen the next time I see him? Do we pretend like that never happened?_ Suddenly frustrated he reached for his phone, not having realized that he had no way to contact the glaive again. _I have to go back to training, but this fucking wound...why didn’t I get his number? The only way I can talk to him is when I see him again….when will that be? He’ll be long over this by then,_ his mind gets away from him, taking his self-doubt to a heightened level. He looked at the black screen like it would show the answers, only to blink a muted blue light every few seconds instead. _Who now?_ he wondered at the light, clicking the screen on. _Five???_ texts from Prompto listed on the screen, each shorter than the first:  
   
_[Yo doooood- what u up to todaY? hower you feeling? wanna h ang out? let me kno!]_  
   
_[hey - i think ignis blocked my nuumber?? on accident maybe?]_  
   
_[u sleepin or something?]_  
   
_[nooooooct.]_  
   
_[:(]_  
   
With less struggle than before, Noct sat up in bed, sighing at the phone. “You could have just called,” he says to no one. He texts back a lazy _[sure, come over,]_ and gets dressed. _It’s cold,_ he figures, stepping into cozy pants and a terrifically oversized sweater. Half an hour later, Noct sits at the couch with a large mug of coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Another mug sits at the table close to the couch, adjusted to Prompto’s usual liking - _like eight sugars and so much milk it’s almost white - it’s gross._ He hears a knock at the door, calling out a tired “it’s open,” before his friend stumbles in.  
   
“Hey!”  
   
Noctis waves in reply. Prompto walks in, shaking rain from his hair, nearly tumbling as he kicks off his boots; he wears his usual oversized sweatshirt, built especially for the rain, he figures - but it’s damp anyway. “How’ve you been? Oo- that for me?” he gestures first to the bandages around Noct’s chest, then at the mug on the table.  
   
Noct shrugs in return, “I’m fine I think - getting this damn thing off tomorrow,” he looks down. “And uh, yeah,”  
   
“Hm?”  
   
“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head, putting the topic as far away as he can. “How’re you doing?”  
   
“Mm? Oh,” he sighs, a bit distracted. “Have you heard from Ignis lately?”  
   
“Uhhh,” he looks over his phone, scrolling through messages lazily. “Not...really, he called yesterday to ask why you were texting? him so much, but,”  
   
Prompto rests his face in his hands. “Man, he probably thinks I’m a loser,”  
   
Noctis laughs a little. “Everyone does. No! I’m kidding - Ignis wouldn’t think that, dude, what’s up with you?”  
   
He sees a noticeable blush alight the freckles on Prompto’s face. “I just…? I wanted to...talk to him, more, I guess,” he trails off into his coffee.  
   
Noct grins. “Aww,”  
   
“Shut up!” his blush deepens, making Noctis laugh.  
   
“I’m sorry. Why don’t I talk to him for you? See what’s going on - I doubt he’s been ignoring you,” he offers.  
   
“I...o...kay,” he runs a hand through tufts of blond hair, eyes sparkling. “This coffee’s a lot better than last time. So...when do you go back to training or whatever?” he asks, looking for a change in topic.  
   
“Oh I’m, I don’t know,” Noct feels suddenly flustered, heart threatening to pound in his chest. “I’m kinda nervous about it actually?”  
   
“I can see that,” he nods, usual demeanor returning.  
   
“I don’t really want to warp again. I will, eventually. When I mentioned it to him, Nyx told me to just-” he stops suddenly.  
   
“Wait....he told you...when?”  
   
_Shit._  
   
“Noct…? Dude, did you get his number or something?!”  
   
He shakes his head, biting the inside of his lip, hands gripped white around his cup of coffee.  
   
“Then how-” he watched his friend's eyes grow wide.  
   
“He came over,” Noctis replied in not much more than a whisper.  
   
“ _What?!_ Noct! When!”  
   
“Y-yesterday?” he says meekly.  
   
Prompto responds with a muffled noise of excitement. “That’s awesome! What happened?”  
   
“Huh? Nothing -” he says as he blushes. “I mean, nothing? He just wanted to see how I was doing, I guess - which I thought was weird - and then I got...mad?”  
   
Prom raises an eyebrow. “Why?”  
   
“Because he - he...blamed himself for what I did, and I felt like - I mean, I was more mad at myself, but-”  
   
“What did he say?”  
   
“Just - he felt like he could have prevented this,” he points to himself, “from happening. I felt like a kid. I told him he should hate me for what I did,” he scowls to himself, still feeling it was true.  
   
“And?”  
   
“He said he couldn’t hate me even if he tried. And...I mean, I dunno,” he covers his face with one hand, trying to hide how embarrassed he felt.  
   
“Noct?” Prompto leaned closer, trying to see his face. His eyes were mischievous as he grinned, as if knowing what the Prince was trying to hide.  
   
“He uh,” he spoke into his sleeve, voice muffled. “...kissed me?” he squeaked, barely audible enough for Prompto to hear.  
   
He scowled when Prom stood up suddenly, hands in the air. “Yeeeees!” he cheers. Noctis groans, burying his face in both hands. “N-nooo,” he whines.  
   
“Dude! Why ‘no’? This is awesome!” Prompto struggles to keep himself from yelling, his eyes glowing with excitement and glee.  
   
“It’s…? Not a big deal!” Noct’s voice is uneven and excited, despite trying to hide it. “Was a mistake, probably!”  
   
“Oh yeah? What was it, like just a peck, or something?”  
   
Noct answers by shaking his head, unable to stop the smile growing on his face.  
   
Prompto sees this, adding “so you don’t “accidentally” make out with someone, huh?” he exaggerates the air quotes, slightly scowling as he does.  
   
“Guess not,” Noct laughs a bit, the thought making him light-headed and nervous all over again.  
   
Prompto whirls around to face him. “So you DID make out?!”  
   
“No it's…I don't…kinda?” he blushes harder than before, reliving the memory in his mind as if it were a dream.  
   
Prompto makes a muffled noise, something mixed with excitement, Noct figures. “Ohhmy gooooddd!”  
   
“Why do you care?” Noct asks with a wave of his hand.  
   
“Friends care, dude,” he replies. “Besides, I'm invested. I need to know,”  
   
“No, you don't,” Noct scowls a bit. He thinks of teasing him about Ignis but decides the better; things like this were touchy subjects for Prompto. Noct knew why he cared so much, _too much maybe,_ but he tried not to mind.  
   
“So have you heard from him at all?” the question pokes through his thoughts, nearly startling him.  
   
“Oh. No,” Noct sighs. “I don't….” _Why didn't I get his number…or something?_ he reminds himself. “n-noo,” he cries. “I don't have his number?! I can't talk to him!”  
   
Prompto can't hold back his laughter, “god dude I'm sorry fuck” he says as he sits back down, holding himself around the waist, still laughing.  
   
“Whaddoo I do,” Noct says with his hands covering his face.  
   
“Training I guess? When do you get to go back?”  
   
He ponders for a moment. “well this comes off tomorrow, so…whatever they tell me, I guess. A week, maybe more?” the idea feels agonizing. A week without seeing the glaive?  
   
Prompto simply nods.  
   
“Ohh, but I don't wanna go back,” he groans. “I'm gunna make a fool of myself again-”  
   
“I don't think you could fuck up worse than last time,” Prompto replies. “no offense,” he hastily adds.  
   
Noctis nods slowly. “But what do I do now? Pretend like that…never happened?” he thinks of the kiss. It's all he can focus on, the feeling burned into his mind like a scar.  
   
“I dunno, but I think you'll be fine.”  
   
“I can't do this, Prom,” Noctis pleads, exasperated. All he wanted was to see Nyx - but at the same time, it was something that filled him with dread.  
   
\-----  
  
  
   
Nyx lies on the top of a vast stone pillar, long after the other glaives had gone home. Thin tufts of fur that line the shoulders of his coat stick together, wet from the stone. He lies in his hood, glittering steel mask shielding his face from the evening sun. The rain passes in bouts, stopping and starting with each bundle of clouds that passes over Insomnia. But the rain doesn’t faze him, too distracted to notice the soft cold alight his face. Tonight the sun was peeking from behind thinning clouds, thin rays lighting the city's horizon on fire. Everything was softened slightly, thanks to the light showers that passed throughout the day; the patches of green grass that survived in the field seemed to glow, the stone pillars surrounding the ruin were shining like gems in the sun’s last breath. Everything felt new, bright, and alive. He turned to face the setting sun, the warmth on his face matching the warmth within his heart.  
   
_Please stay._  
   
_I can’t._  
   
_Please-_  
   
The glaive closes his eyes, brow furrowed. _I should have,_ he thinks to himself. _But what then? I already crossed the line._ He punches the stone softly, _What the hell was I thinking?_  
   
But he knew what he had been thinking; how the Prince had looked, standing before him, half dressed, hair disheveled, eyes bright like blue fire. He was thinking of how his heart broke with the Prince’s voice, shattering the strength he had tried to defend himself with. He thought of how cold Noctis was when he embraced him, how soft his lips were against his own, how he didn’t think he could stop, how he _didn’t want to_ -  
   
He sighs to himself. _This isn’t good - but - god, I wanted him,_ he admits, a painful expression crossing his eyes.  
   
He dreamt of it more than he wished to admit, often seeing the Prince lying beneath his weight, hands clutching the sheets above his head, crying out his name, voice echoing like a song. He was desperate to remember the way his name sounded from Noctis’ broken, pleading voice, but it faded away from his mind every time he woke. He'd run his hands through strands of midnight hair, kissing at the tears running from the oceans of his eyes - Nyx swore he could see galaxies within them at times, swirling like starry silver waves. _"Noctis,"_ he would whisper into the dream, _"come for me, Noctis - Noctis, Noctis, N-"_  
   
Nyx sighed heavily, pressing the cold steel of his mask over his eyes until he could feel imprints left on his cheek. All he could hear was the beating of his heart, and it was all he could hear since the day before. _I wish I would have stayed with you - what if we-?_ The thought made him frustrated, knowing it was wrong.  
   
“We can't,” he said to himself. “We can't do this.”  
   
But something fought deep within his heart, gnawing at the fibres of his doubt. Something that, no matter how much he wanted to push this feeling far away, kept close the feeling of a deep sincerity that made him unable to keep the Prince out of his mind. Something that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking of _how_ and _why_ this happened in the first place. Was it the warp? That near-death was the thing that made them fall in love? Nyx shook his head at the implication and the word itself. He figured he had been feeling this way for a little while longer, _before we fought with magic? Then when? When we met? I don't think so,_ he couldn't decide. He felt that the description fit somewhere between reality and a dream, like the heavens had purposely intruded on his sleep to show him the Prince in a way he almost wished he hadn’t seen.  
   
But _in love?_ “No, no-” he spoke to himself. “Not that. Can’t do that.” his mind trailed to the Prince and the Kingsglaive; if something _like this_ were to happen and people find out about it, Nyx figured he’d be killed at the very least. _Anyone,_ he lamented. _Anyone but the fucking Lucian Prince._ And while it was true that one part of him didn’t care, that his life meant nothing anyway, that he could do whatever he wanted with the meaningless existence tied along with his name, another part of him wanted nothing more than to love deeply, to hold the Prince with open arms, free of divine judgement. More than anything, he wanted for Noctis to be with someone without having the worry, or the danger, attached. _We’re not even “together” anyway, it was just...a mistake?_ he tries, unwilling to accept that answer.  
   
He turned to lie on his side, facing away from the sun’s last rays. In his shadow he imagined the Prince, his figure traced by a silver halo of burning light. “Why did I have to train you,” he talks to the pillar, imagining the cracking lines of stone melting with a blinding bright blue that would stare at him _so powerfully_ , “I could have gone my whole sad life without meeting you even once.” the thought creates a shiver that runs through his spine. “Although,” he adds slowly, softer than before, “you make this life a lot less sad.” He figured that he didn’t know Noctis well enough to say it, but the words escaped him anyway. They hadn’t spoken much at all since meeting, most of their interactions being through relentless dueling out on the field. But something about it brightened the task of being a glaive in the first place; the echoes of ice that flashed in his mind matched the blue hues of the warp void as he struck Noctis to the ground in attempt to save them both. It was a bad moment for both of them, Noct losing control of himself and Nyx letting his anger get the best of him - but Nyx thought back on it now in a soft, bittersweet way. _I think I understood you more when we fought like that. I could feel your emotion in your strikes. You were confused. Angry. Frustrated, at me - I get it,_ he considers.  
   
He couldn’t wait for the Prince to return. The image of the bandages around his chest at first startled him, but eased his mind at what could have ended out much worse. He guessed a few days, and he would be back training - nothing too strenuous, of course, but at least he would get to see him again -  
   
_But what do I say? After what I did?_ Nyx cursed himself for going over there in the first place. _Just had to see how he was. You knew he was fine! You just wanted to -_  
   
Nyx blinked hard, not having realized the sun had long set. He had much less energy than usual, being back to his normal routines on the field. _So mundane, so boring,_ he thought, instead usually finding a nice high spot no one else could reach. He felt safe up here, the irony slicing into his heart with a blade on fire. It took a bit of time for even himself to feel comfortable with warping again after Noctis suffered, but he figured the only way to get over the feeling was to phase through it. He was partially right; the warping felt fine again, but the visions of blood still managed to shake him to his core, making him freeze during some moments. He sighed, pushing the nightmare from his mind, then warped back to solid ground. The Citadel had turned empty and cold, few lights lining the field becoming haunting blurs within the haze. The glaive straightened his mask as he left, wanting to stay hidden, a lonely ghost wandering the busy streets of Insomnia like a curse.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- next chapter will be more fun. back to training Noct goes!
> 
> \- thank you guys again for reading!
> 
> \- [ bit of a mild-nsfw warning for next chapter as well. just a heads up!]


	8. Day 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Noctis finally returns to training. Both are a bit on edge, not knowing how to continue from their last encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- mild nsfw warning for the end!

 

\----

 

_”N--, N--, N-- --”_

_No - I can’t -- I can’t do this to you_

_“Please”_

_They’re gunna kill me-_

_“Are you scared?”_

_I don’t know-_  

 _“Do you want me?”_  

 _(Yes.)_  

 _But I can’t-_  

 _(Bright blue eyes. Tinged with a bit of purple sometimes. I think constellations live inside of them.)_  

 _“N--, touch me-”_  

 _I can’t!_  

 _The scene transformed. The body below his own seemed to rip open, a long line of searing red flooding over pale skin into the surrounding void. Everything red. Everything blood. Everything-_  

 _“You…”_  

 _No, Your Highness-_  

 _“You did this,”_  

 _This is the last thing I wanted-_  

 _“Look at me!”_  

 _But his eyes, now hollow, flooded with deep, thick red, almost black. His uneven spikes of messy hair stuck together with hot, royal blood. One of his hands clutched desperately at his side, the wound, blade still stuck in his body, the wound-_  

 _“Please,”_  

 _I can’t do this-_  

 _“Are you scared?”_  

 _He looked down at the dagger in his hand, jutting violently out of the Prince’s side. His hands heavy with his blood. So red, it’s all he can see._  

 _Yes-_  

 _“Hold me-”_  

 _A violent burst of deep, rolling laughter shifted from the blue aurora above them. It echoed until it was so loud, he tried to scream. Stop this. Stop this. Please!_  

 _“You - are - not - meant - to - love”_  

 _I know!_  

\-----

 

“No!” Nyx jolted out of sleep, sitting up, hand clutching at his side. He shook violently, slowly raising a hand over his mouth after realising what he had seen. 

It had been two weeks since the accident. Two weeks since he held the Prince, bleeding out onto the muddy ground. It wasn’t everyday that the nightmare would return, it had only happened a handful of times overall - but this time had been the worst by far.

A sob escaped his throat, his lungs forgetting how to breathe. The room around him felt smaller, darker, and heavier, like the air was suffocating him. He gripped a hand around his ribcage, hyperventilating as he wiped stray tears from his eyes. “F….f-fuck,” he gasps. “God....d-dammi-t” his breath shakes as he tries to inhale, quickly becoming light-headed. A cold sweat envelops his skin, giving him chills as he sits in the dark. It takes a few minutes for Nyx to recollect, running a hand through his hair as he breathes deeply, methodically. _I don’t know how to deal with this,_  he thinks, releasing a shuddering, painful sigh from his lungs. He turns to face the window near the bed, tearing the curtain open, facing the stars. _What have I done to deserve this,_  he wants to yell, but everything hurt too much.

The night sky bled a fantastic swirl of endless blue, so deep it was nearly black, littered with thousands upon thousands of stars. The moon was hidden from the glaive’s view. He looked long into the night, trying to erase the dream he had. His right hand shook at the sight of holding the dagger that pierced the Prince’s skin, causing the flow of blood that nearly killed him. _But I didn’t really do that...did I?_  The state worsened his panic, emitting another bout of hyperventilated breaths, enough to make his heart stop.

“Why?” the light of the stars reflected in his eyes, shining, framed with tears. “Why would you do this to me,” he says to nothing. To the gods, he hoped. But he hated every single one of them. “You...wouldn’t have let your royal blood fall like that,” he continues, breaths heavy, exhausted from trauma. “You would have let him die, wouldn’t you?” he blinks hard, grimacing as tears escape his eyes. He’s still for a moment, watching the stars, wishing he wasn’t alone. He rested back again, feeling cold, wishing the blankets would act as a shield from the world, from _everything_ , as he rolled over on his side. He aimlessly reached for his phone, checking the time: _[4:00 AM]_ . Nyx sighs. _That’s it for sleep, I guess._

\----- 

Sunbeams peered through breaks in the clouds like holy light. The afternoon was warm, but the air was light, for which many of the glaives were thankful. The field was busy, many sparring and warping in groups, dashing about the area in blue blurs. Bundles of mages echoed singsong laughter while they tossed a multitude of spells around like they were nothing, sparks of purple and red flames nearly searing their casters - but the laughter was contagious, setting a bright mood over the field as a whole. Even Nyx broke into a grin as he and Libertus threw daggers at each other, their usual spar. His eyes glittered beneath the mask of woven steel, feeling able to breathe again when he was fighting. _This is something I know I can do,_  he reminds himself with a smile. The nightmare felt far from his mind.

“Hey, isn’t that the Prince?”

Or not. Nyx nearly sliced his hand open at the words, letting one dagger fall to the ground, quickly sheathing the other. 

Libertus didn’t notice, still looking across the shorter range of the field. The Prince walked with an odd step; Nyx couldn’t tell if he was in pain or if he was just anxious. Beside him walked Crowe, who grinned wide as they got closer. He could hear Noctis thanking her, but she seemed to laugh it off. 

“Don’t worry about it, that’s what we’re here for,” she hits his shoulder lightly. “Just don’t...do that again,”

“Yeah, I’ll try not,” Noctis _laughs_. Nyx isn’t sure what to do with himself, looking over at Libertus, trying to shield the panic in his expression. 

But the other glaive seems to scowl almost angrily. “Well, I’ll get outta your way,” he begins to take his leave.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’d prefer not to be here in case something happens like last time,” Libertus spat, earning from Nyx a glare.

“Get over it, man,” he sighs under his breath.

Libertus rolls his eyes as he leaves, leaving Nyx pissed off. _I know he hates the royalty, but dammit, the king_ did _save our lives,_  he thinks, staring after him. He turns to find the Prince and Crowe before him, the mage smiling mischievously, the Prince staring hard at the ground.

“Ulric, look who’s back,” the teasing tone her voice carries makes Nyx bite the inside of his lip, shaking his head lightly. 

“Yeah- uh, nice to,” _what?_   “see you?” he looks off into the distance, blank stare judging himself.

“Uhh, sure,” Noct seems confused, an awkward smile lifting his lips slightly. 

Crowe stands with a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her adoration. She sees the difficulty filtering through the glaive’s eyes, and almost feels bad. _He has no idea what he’s doing,_  she wants to laugh but instead gives incentive, “no magic today. We’ve got that covered,” she points to the circle of hooded figures, still laughing as their spells would occasionally clash, creating a storm of elements.

“Probably shouldn’t warp yet, either,” Nyx offers, voice shaking hard. He removes his mask, greeting the two with a slight nod.

“Yeah not that,” Noctis agrees, eyes widening a bit in fear. He instinctively reaches for his side, but awkwardly lets his hand drop. With an aching heart, Nyx longs to reach out to him. 

Crowe takes a seat on the nearest pillar, dashing a short distance to it. She sits with her legs crossed, chin resting on her hand. 

“What’re you doing?” Nyx glares slightly.

“Don’t wanna miss this, besides, it’s break time,” she smiles wide. _Whatever_ , he thinks in return.

Meanwhile, Noct stands a bit stiff, terrified. “Just...go easy,” he starts, summoning a dagger in each hand, nearly dropping them. “It’s been a while.”

Nyx simply nods, thankful that the Prince started things off. He wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure if he could say anything, feeling slightly afraid. He didn't know how Noct would act with him after  _that night_ , if he'd rather pretend nothing had happened between them. Nyx wasn't even sure, himself. The nightmare was the only thing he could see, the image of the Prince with daggers again becoming too much. _What if I hurt him?_  He felt as if his heart would leap from his throat. _And the blood -_  he shakes his head sharply, willing the thought from his mind. “Okay.”

He unsheathes the dagger from behind his back, forgetting the one still in the dirt. “Aren’t you gunna...pick that up?” he hears from the Prince. 

“Don’t need it,” Nyx smiles slightly, as if to taunt him. Noct smirks in return, taking a minute to get his stance right. He sees Nyx’s face, “just gimme a minute! It’s been like, a long time,” he tries to defend himself. 

“Whatever you say,” _Okay. Ignoring what happened. Good._  

The Prince strikes with his left hand first, wincing only slightly but enough to strike at the glaive’s heart. “You sure you’re ready to do this again?” he says, deflecting him with ease.

“I’m fine!” the Prince responds, swinging suddenly with his right arm, faster. But the glaive defends that, too, pushing Noctis away with a light shove of his left arm. He hears a frustrated _tch_  from the Prince, making him grin.

“What, not easy enough for you?” he teases, drawing back. “Fine, how’s this?” he folds his left arm behind his back, stance ready. Completely comfortable talking to the Prince in this way.

“Oh, come on!” Noctis sighs angrily. “I can take you down if I wanted to, you know,” 

“Sure you could,” it’s difficult for Nyx not to laugh. He looks at Noctis - _he’s having fun._

Noct emits an angry sound, dashing at the glaive with both daggers. Keeping his arm locked behind him, Nyx deflects both shots with his right hand, laughing as he does. He shields himself with anxiety and nervousness despite feeling calm in a dangerous setting, trying not to think of the Prince and how he felt so close to him, the moment feeling long ago now. _We can’t do this, and you know it too, don’t you? Good,_  he thinks, almost sad. He’s afraid to look at the Prince, but can’t help it; _tired, as usual, but weaker too - that’s expected,_  he figures. He does not look at his eyes, knowing if he does, he’ll never get rid of that feeling; the one the digs deep into his mind, the feeling of want, of closeness, of warmth. The feeling that reminded him of a deep, bright dawn, air in his lungs that reminded of being _so alive_. 

_We can’t do this,_

He snapped back to reality, realizing that his dagger was knocked hard out of his shaking hand, spinning into the dirt near his feet.

“See!” Noct laughs victorious, his voice a song. _Fuck_. He hears Crowe laugh, too.

“Okay, but-” he begins, picking up the blade. 

“Get your other one, this time,” Noct decides.

“Fine.”

They duel with slow, languid steps, circling each other, barely coming into contact, occasionally trying to strike. Each seemed as if they were pretending that a week ago they had not embraced, that they had not felt each other so close, or kissed so deeply. To everyone around them, it seemed that they were simply back to being bitter toward each other. To Crowe, it seemed as if the two were finally connecting on something, something they could work through without a level of awkwardness to get closer to each other. She noted the fire in their eyes, each trying to ignore the other. She did not know, however, what had happened when Nyx met with the Prince - he had kept oddly quiet about it since. She figured something must have gone on - they were both more unusual now than they had been before. Noctis, however, was becoming more and more frustrated with the glaive as he failed strike after strike. Nyx was still taking it easy, taking fluid steps through the dust, glancing at the Prince every so often, trying not to look too long.

Noctis took notice. “What, you scared of me?”

“Not quite,” he answers with a small smile, somewhat serious. 

Noctis hums in response, then smiles. “This is too easy,” he tries to taunt. 

“You know I’m barely trying, right,” he says flatly on purpose, almost bored, making the Prince scowl.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “off.” _He’s trying not to smile._ He suddenly launches himself at the glaive, dashing with blue sparks. Nyx’s eyes widen, taken by surprise.

“Noctis,” he starts, dodging the attack. “Careful,”

“I know what I’m doing,” he replied, breathing heavily, the smallest phase shift becoming a strain on him. He glares at the glaive, but sees the pain in his silver eyes. “Don’t worry,” he adds, softer. Nyx nods.

 _We can’t do this-_  

Noctis dashes again, laughing as he does. His laughter fades into the void with him, his body a swirling silhouette of blue that circled the glaive. Nyx can hardly keep up, whirling around as he watches the Prince in pure amazement. _What changed in you?_   Blue silhouettes framed the glaive, each more crystalline and  _beautiful_ than the last. Wavy breaths of exhaustion echo from the void, replacing the honeyed laughter. Noctis stops circling him, wobbling on his feet. “Shit,” he gasps. 

Nyx laughs; it was so easy, it felt _so good._  He tries to cut off the feeling, but knew it was too late. 

 _We can’t-_  

Noct strikes at him again. The duel turns into a strange dance, each moving the other back and forth with sharpened strikes. The clashing blades rang through the air like musical notes, creating a song that burns itself into Nyx’s mind. They circle each other, becoming closer and closer, Noctis unable to help but stare at the silver detail of the Kingsglaive jacket, how the texture had felt in his hands. His eyes trailed to the glaive’s, noting how that silver seemed to match his eyes, which were trying to look away. He locked his gaze upon the small thin line beneath his eye, a weird tattoo - _a small line -_ _but almost like an arrow?_ \-  but he liked it just the same. He was losing balance in his mind as his thoughts trailed to that night, that dream, that - 

“Dammit!” he snaps as a dagger flies from his hand. He keeps going one armed, swinging with more force than before. 

“Noctis, we can stop-” 

“No!” Because what would he say if they did? What would Nyx say?

Nyx looked concerned, but kept going. “Just let me know if you need to-”

“I’m good,” he responds, warp-dashing again to avoid further comments. But he launched himself too hard, losing himself in the phase. _Shit, shit - no!_  For a moment, the glaive felt his heart freeze, blood running cold just as it had when he watched the Prince's fall. He found he could not move, expression washed clean with panic.

“Oww, ow ow ow,” Noct whines from the stone steps about twenty feet from where they were fighting. Nyx stares for a second, heart in his lungs, terrified, but exhales as he laughs.

“You okay over there?” he says as he walks over.

“It’s fine - it’s cool, I guess I needed a break anyway,” he coughs, a smile written on his face. He lies upside down on the stone, staring up at the glaive as he gets closer to him. His eyes shine like deep, unsettled waves as Nyx can’t help but look down at him, adoring the way his dark hair flips messily across the cracked stone. Convinced that there was no way out, he sits beside the Prince, leaning back on his hands, closing his eyes toward the sun. Noctis looks up to the sky, lost in the softness of swirling clouds surrounding the city. Neither of them had realized that every other glaive in the field - including Crowe - had left. The evening was soon to arrive.

_How long had they been here alone?_

Noct looked up at the glaive, who gazed unto the horizon. Something shone in his eyes that he couldn’t quite figure out. He suddenly felt nervous, unsure of how to move or speak.

“It’s been a while,” the glaive begins instead. He still looks out into the cityscape, blurred by sunbeams. “I hope...I didn’t scare you away, or something.” he makes himself smile at the weakness in his words.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Noct is surprised that he’s able to answer clearly enough. “I mean, maybe I was? I dunno. I wanted to talk to you since...then, but I only see you here-” he gestures by waving a hand over his head, still lying on the stone step. “I just didn’t know what to do next. I still don’t.” he closes his eyes to avoid looking at the glaive. 

Nyx sighs, partially relieved. “At least we’re on the same page,” he half smiles, his brow arched in a worried glance.

Noct moved his hand from over his head, motioning to rest it beside him. He did not realize that the glaive was so close, and that his hand rested upon Nyx’s own. He surprised himself, but did not pull away. Nyx felt his heart stop. _We can’t -_  but he pushed the thought that had been repeating in his mind all day far away, instead gripping into the Prince’s hand, not saying a word. He lies back unto the stone step with a sigh, his head near the Prince’s knees. With his free hand he settles back into his Glaive hood, straightening the mask over his face.

Noctis was watching him. “Does that even do anything?” he asks, nodding toward the mask before lying back down, squeezing the glaive’s hand slightly as he does.

“Uh, well,” Nyx is actually unsure. “I like how it looks, anyway?” he laughs in defense.

Noctis smirks. “I mean, I figured you guys would at least have some armor, y’know, not just like, fancy jackets and a masquerade mask,”

“Come on! That’s just mean,” Nyx acts offended, if only the Prince could see the smile on his face. “‘Fancy jacket’, okay,”

Noct lets go of the glaive’s hand for a moment to grab at the purple silk cascading from Nyx’s back. “Fancy fancy,” he mocks with a smile, returning his hand to where he figured it belonged.

Nyx laughs, heart settling into a calmer beat, full of light. _Can’t argue with that,_  he figures.

They lie in silence for a while, starting to feel the cold as the sun settles below the thick horizon of buildings along Insomnia’s edge. Nyx doesn’t want to move, memorizing the feeling of their fingers intertwined on the stone ledge. The dusk sets itself along a pale horizon, contrast of the sky fading with the sun, leaving the world in a mask of white. He eventually sits up, looking down at their hands, thinking that nothing had ever felt so strange, nor familiar. He stares at his gloved hand, _it doesn’t feel like his,_  and he hates to pull away. Noctis seems startled by the movement, jolting a bit, partially sitting up, expression confused. 

“Sorry - wait. Were you asleep just there?” Nyx interrupts, eyes squinting as he smiled.

“N-no, of course not,” Noctis crosses his arms, dazed, eyelids heavy. “Who just does that,” he smiles in return, blushing, embarrassed. 

Nyx smirks, about to say something, but can’t seem to find the words. _What now?_

He tries. “You too tired to come get a drink with me?”

Noct is immediately flustered at the notion. His tired eyes widen, he feels dizzy. “Oh - I, uhh,”

“You don’t have to, don’t worry about it,” he offers with a wave of his hand. “Just a thing glaives do-”

“A thing glaives do?” Noctis repeats, an eyebrow raised. “You know normal people get drinks too, right?”

“Damn, really? No idea,” he replies with a slight grin, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, Prince, I didn’t realize you were ‘normal’ people.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs. Sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” the glaive offers awkwardly, noting never to do that again. 

Noct just nods in return. “Okay. Where are we going?”

 

\-----

  

The evening felt cool, dusk settling into every corner of the life of Insomnia. Life outside of the Wall was settling still for the night, no means to continue the day where daemons would soon spur. Insomnia was netted by king’s magic, ever weakening, but strong enough still to keep the inhabitants alive well into the middle of the night. Street lights reflected off of the fractals of the Wall, glimmering into invisible night. In the deeper streets, people partied outside, enjoying the nicer change in weather. The glaive and the Prince walked side by side through bustling streets, Noct keeping his head down, not really worried people in this area would recognize him anyway. Nyx led the way, sidestepping people who passed by, not a care in the world. The air was full of laughter, as if a celebration were going on.

“Is it always like this?” Noct says so quietly that Nyx barely registers it.

“Only when it isn’t raining. First nice day in a while, people gotta be outside,” he replies.

“Hmm,”

“What, not into parties?” 

“Not really my thing,” he says, looking up for a moment. His eyes wander around the street, seeming to adore the liveliness surrounding him. He seemed to watch from the outside, longing to be within, knowing he couldn’t. The realization tore at the glaive’s heart. In another life, he figured, this would be a lot easier; they wouldn’t have to depend on violence to connect, but instead could meet under warm street lights and strings of patio lights, embracing each other without a care beneath the stars. He looked at the Prince for a moment, eyes buried beneath sadness. Feeling his gaze, Noctis looks up to meet it with a pleading expression, as if his thoughts were the same. Nyx wanted nothing more than to hold him again, but instead shrugged, “this way.” He nods toward a quieter corner, a small bar enclosed by larger, brighter buildings. Noct is apprehensive to follow him inside, but enters, feeling a chill shake him despite the warmth the place offers.

“What’re you having?” he leans down slightly, eye level with the Prince.

“Uhh, same as you, I guess,” Noct shrugs, blushing a bit as he notes how close the glaive is, and how small he felt in comparison.  

Nyx leads them to the counter where they both sit, occupying an empty corner. He waves the barkeep down, “two of the usual.” 

“Do you come here a lot?” he hears the Prince ask in a voice that seemed far away. He’s looking around at the place, noting how dimly it was lit. Thin, wiry lights strung together hung from the ceiling in a tangled embrace, warm light reflecting off of shelves of glass bottles filled with various liquids.

“Not much, just after work sometimes,” he replies with half a shrug. “Crowe likes this place,”

“She’s nice,” Noct says with a smile.

“Don’t tell her that,” he chuckles in return.

Noct is quiet for a moment as their drinks arrive. He frowns at the sight of it, a deep, dark liquid fills the glass, smelling faintly of paint.  He watches the glaive drink half without complaint. He takes a sip. “Oh fuck,” he exclaims, disgusted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Nyx just laughs at him. “You get used to it,”

“Sure,” 

They are silent for a while, Nyx allowing the Prince to really take the area in. He realizes that in a place like this, both of them are neither Prince, nor glaive, but nothing to nobody else. The thought makes him smile.

Noct breaks his thought with a short, breathy laugh. “You must have hated me at first. I remember your face. Getting to teach the Prince how to warp, lucky you,” he smiles at the memory despite being hard on himself.

 _Yeah, ‘lucky me’ is right._  “I dunno,” Nyx starts in return. “I don’t think hate is the right word. Annoyed? No, hmm...Nervous? maybe,” 

“Why nervous?” Noct tries to take another drink, but ultimately decides he can’t.

“Well, you being the Prince and everything. Wasn’t something I was used to.” _I’m still not used to it. I’m just a--_ “I’m glad we got rid of formalities real quick, though. Makes things easier.” 

“Yeah, I hate that stuff,” Noct replies disdainfully. “I’m glad you don’t mind.” 

He goes silent again. Nyx looks at him, he finds, in a way he has not before. Beneath the heavy, warm lights of the bar, the Prince looks softer, more comfortable, despite sitting there. His eyes glow, reflecting orange light as he looks up at the shelved bottles, discerning different types of alcohol in them. His dark, messy hair was haloed in a softening edge that made him look as if in a haze. Nyx found he could not manage to look away, stifling every doubtful thought that had been trudging through his mind all day. _You know I’m just a glaive? I could die tomorrow and no one would blink an eye. If you died, the world would too,_  he considers, damning himself for thinking that way. _But it’s true. We can’t do this. We can’t. But…._  He sighs. 

“What is it?” Noctis asks, eyes staring deep into his. He cannot look away.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he replies softly, his gaze blurred. All he can see, his worst fear, are those eyes. _I knew if I looked at you again this would happen,_  he wants to say. The Prince doesn’t say anything more, but eventually looks away, resting the side of his face in his hand, leaning on the countertop. He seems to try to hide his face, as if paranoid of the strangers around him realizing who he was. He stared hard at the counter, purposely ignoring anyone that glanced his way.

“So, how are you doing?” Nyx asks after a short while. Noctis glances at him in question. “After the whole-” he gestures at his side, “thing?”

“Oh, that,” Noctis looks down into his still-full drink.”Fine, for the most part. The bandage was the worst part, well, you saw that,” he pauses. 

The glaive nods. “Looked pretty uncomfortable,” he offers. 

“Yeah, it was the worst. Anyway, fine for the most part, like I said. Doesn’t hurt a lot unless I try to do too much, but that’ll at least go away after a while,” he stops, scowling to himself. His expression darkens in a way the glaive has never seen.

Nyx realizes. “You were left with a scar, huh,” 

Noct bites his lip. “It’s bad.” he tries to laugh, but his face reads a different expression entirely.

Nyx finishes his drink, blinking hard. He coughs, trying not to laugh when he hears a “god, that’s gross,” from Noct as he watches the glaive. 

“Trust me, you get used to it,”

“It tastes like paint,” he says flatly in return, making the glaive laugh. He pushes his glass farther away as if to defend himself from it.

Nyx grimaces a bit. “Okay, but it’s not the worst,” but he partially agrees. They sit for a minute more, but Noct fidgets in his seat. “Wanna uh,” he starts, looking toward the door. They stand together, not sure where they’re going as they leave.

 

\-----

 

The night air is still lively, but quieter than before. Strings of lights still connected each side of the street, a canopy of firelight hanging over the busy concrete. Nyx and the Prince wandered throughout the street, illuminated by glittering lights, shielded by glittering stars. Noctis stared into the lights above him in small amazement, a ceiling of warmth reflecting in his eyes. Nyx stopped and stared, unable to help himself. _So many things, today...and now this,_  he smiles to himself, adoring the Prince, whose eyes fluttered closed a few times, snapping himself back to reality. He seemed somewhere else, partially spaced out, seeming tired and anxious, eyes open wide. “Sorry,” he says quietly, causing the glaive to blush slightly. He feels so close, yet so far away, wanting nothing more than to hold the other beneath these lights, caress him fully, kiss him hard. Instead, they walk slowly beneath the canopy, shadowed by night. Nyx walks instinctively toward his place, not realizing his implications. 

He stops outside, brow furrowed. “This is...I mean, did you want to-” 

“You don’t mind?” Noct intervenes, stepping closer, seeming almost impatient. _What?_

“N-not at all,” he stammers, surprised. Shaking, he unlocks the door - after a few tries - and leads the way in. He clicks the light on, revealing a small, open apartment, one large room housing the space. To Nyx’s relief he had left it relatively clean, not thinking this is where the day would lead. He hears the door slam behind him, panic lifting his heart as he spins around. 

“What’s wrong,” he states as he sees the Prince, one hand glued to the door, the other arm folded around his waist as he breathes heavily for a moment, bent over slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Noct starts, evening out his breaths as he continues. “I get so paranoid when I’m out in the city like that,” he studies the apartment, thankful for the silence. 

“God, Noctis, I’m sorry-” Nyx feels a wave of guilt clean away his safe feeling from before.

“No! No, no, don’t worry - that? was really nice, well the drink wasn't, but, I mean, being out with you, that was,” he straightens himself out, waving a hand at the glaive slightly. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, trying to ignore how warm his heart feels. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just,” he inhales. “Always been a thing. Crowds maybe? I don’t know, but I’m fine, I’m sorry, shit, I ruin everyth-”

“No. Don’t say that.” He turns away again, working off his gloves, setting them on a table. He undoes his coat, breath hitching slightly. Noct relaxes, awkwardly kicking off his boots as he steps further into the apartment.

“Did you want anything?” the glaive asks passively.

“Just you-” the Prince replies, slapping a hand to his mouth, eyes shot wide in terror at realizing what he had just said. Nyx whirls around to face him, eyes burning molten silver. “O-oh,” he stammers, muffled, stepping backward. “I-I’m, uh,” hand still covering his face, feeling hot to the touch.

But the glaive advances, removing the Prince’s hand from his mouth, holding it in his own as he gets close to him.

“Nyx, I’m-” but his plea is stifled by a deep, desperate kiss. Noct stares with eyes still wide, lashes fluttering, but relaxes as he settles into the feeling he longed for so much. He hums into the glaive, who pushes him backward, slowly pressing him against the nearest wall. Noctis pulls away, staring up at the other, eyes wide and shining.

“I’m sorry,” Nyx begins. _What’s wrong with me?_

“How long have you felt this way?” Noctis asks, barely a whisper. His hands rested on the glaive’s hips, pulling him as closely as he could. _Stop apologizing._

“I don’t know,”  he says in a voice just as hushed. 

“That’s a lie,” Noct replies, a hand raising to the glaive’s face, lightly brushing against the scruff on his cheek with the back of his fingers.

“I know.” rather than telling the Prince more, he leans in to kiss him again, gentler than before. Noct returns, melting in the feeling of the glaive’s touch, moving his hand to caress the back of his neck. They stifle each other, awkward at first, eventually sinking into a familiar rhythm, gentle kisses becoming deeper, more drawn out with each breath. Nyx thinks of the nightmare, which felt so far and unfamiliar to him now, the Prince so close, so _real_. He pulls apart, breaths soft as he kisses along Noctis’ jawline, trailing to his neck, emitting from him a deep sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. Nyx hums at the warmth of his skin, his hands resting along his Prince’s hips.

“You’re so….” Noct begins, but trails off. He stares at the ceiling, looking for words. Looking for answers.

“Hmm?” another hum at his skin. 

“Gentle,” he decides.

Nyx stops, his face nestled into the Prince’s neck. “Do you like that?”

“Yeah…but,” Noct tries, a thought on his mind the glaive can only guess at as he straightens his stance, looking him in the eye.

Noctis grips into the skin at the back of his neck, pulling him down into a determined kiss, biting at his bottom lip as he does. A small sound escapes Nyx’s throat, surprised at the _want_  he could feel. He feels the Prince’s hands trail to his chest, stopping there as if to feel the erratic skipping of his heart. Noct kissed deeper, needy, as he slides his tongue into the other’s mouth, tasting remnants of alcohol,  _but it tastes so much better this way,_ he decides. He runs his hands to the glaive’s hips again, venturing his hands beneath his shirt, sighing inwardly at how warm his skin felt. 

Nyx let a gasp catch in his throat - _god, you're cold,_  he wants to tease, but wants to taste the Prince more, not saying a word. He allows curious hands to sink into his back, feeling around at shallow scars and claw at the curve of his spine. Noct wants more, nails digging into his skin before he lifts his shirt higher, exposing his torso. Noct hums, satisfied, but pushes the glaive away for a moment, allowing himself to pull the shirt off completely, catching his breath. Nyx complies, trying not to smile as he lifts his arms for the Prince. He tries to tell himself that _I can’t be doing this, I can’t let him do this,_  but can’t stop the pleasured sigh that escapes him when he feels light kisses at his neck. He swallows hard, tossing his shirt to the side. Noct suddenly backs away, frozen.

“What is it?”

“You- o-oh,” Noct blushes deeply, unable to do more than stare at the glaive. Nyx can feel his eyes burn into the multitude of scars across his skin, most small, white marks, others highlighting his chest with thin, long and jagged lines. But Noct barely takes note of them - they're there, of course, but he sees only the broad expanse of skin before him, of _Nyx_ _before him_. He wants to kiss at each scar, but only moans as he pulls the other close again, lips parted as they meet. Nyx slips his hands beneath the Prince's shirt, embracing him around his back.

Noctis releases himself from the kiss, breathy sighs as he kisses at the glaive’s exposed skin. He feels his heart on fire, a deep unsettled want within. He loses track of reality, barely registering the way Nyx rolls his hips into him, hard pressed against the wall, finding it difficult to breathe, feeling _so much_  at once. He kisses at small scars, left shades of pink and white, not noticing, not caring that the glaive is undressing him, only seeing the scars, _the_ _scars, the scar-_  

“Oh, Noctis.” he hears a deep, quiet, saddened sigh from the glaive as he looks down at him. 

 _No_ -

Nyx studies the long, healing wound, a searing line of pink that cuts from just below the shoulder down into the valley of Noctis’ hips. The scar widens into a deeper gash near his middle, where the blade made its harshest mark. The pink, raw flesh serrated the porcelain of his chest, a broken, permanent reminder. He tries to hide his pained expression, eyes full of sorrow. _This is my fault,_  he thinks, nightmare returning in full force. 

“It’s - it looks worse than it is,” Noctis pitifully defends it, trying to cover the majority of the mark with his hands. He crosses his arms around himself, looking at anything but the glaive. He glances toward the door, the switch on the wall - _the light, the light,_  he panics, dependant on the dark to take away his shame. Nyx stops him before he can move, gently taking both of his cold, shaking hands in his.

“I was so stupid,” he hears Noct say weakly. 

“Why did you come back to fight again so soon after this,” Nyx dreads the answer.

Noct glances up for a second, trapped in the silvery steel of the glaive’s eyes. “I just wanted…” 

“Don’t say it,” he says with more of a growl than he intends.

“But it’s true-! I had no other way to see you - I just - I needed -” he tries to pull away his hands, but Nyx holds him still. He notices the panic in the Prince’s eyes, and his expression softens. He backs away, still holding him, leading him carefully to the side of his bed, sitting them down. Nyx says nothing, only keeping his eyes locked on the wound, seeing nothing but the nightmare within it. 

Noctis sits awkwardly in the silence for a while. “Please,” his voice breaks, the glaive’s eyes fixing on his. “Say something. You’re thinking of something - what is it,” 

Nyx pushes the nightmare away, fighting it with every thought he has. _I_ _don’t want to ruin this. But we can't do this, if someone finds out, I'm dead,_  he figures, a dangerous risk. He decides he can’t let Noctis know of his guilt the scar casts on him. Instead, he leans into him, kissing at the wound as softly as he can. He starts at the Prince’s shoulder, lips meeting raw skin; he hums almost musically, moving along the jagged line with gentle touches.

Noctis chokes back a sob, leaning in to rest his head against the glaive’s. He felt the sting of tears threaten him, never having been treated in such a careful way before; warm, calloused hands embraced around his back, bringing him closer to the one he thought he was scared to love. His heart threaded with his lungs, a violent mixture of panic and pleasure settling in his midst; the gentle touch he did not know the glaive had, how _loved_ it made him feel. “Why…” he says to no one, to himself, to Nyx.

He takes it as a chance to answer, to tell him something he’s longed to ever since he had dreamt it - it felt like a lifetime ago, compared to this. 

“You’re beautiful,” is no more than a whisper, but the Prince feels his heart break.

“...what?” in a cracking, breaking voice.

“You’re beautiful,” the glaive repeats, same hushed tone as before. So effortless to say.

A broken, pleading laugh. “You’re just saying that,”

“No. I’ve been thinking it, too,” he finds himself kissing away slow tears as they stumble from deep oceans, far away. 

“Nyx,” he receives a deep, satisfied hum at saying his name. “How long have you felt this way,” he wonders again, the glaive staring back at him with a face expressionless, eyes of deep grey tinged with honey, reflecting the low, yellow light. He longs to say more. He cannot find the strength.

_You’re-- beautiful is the last thing I would be. I took a chance at flying without wings, and you broke my fall - I remember how you looked at me then. Not like this. Never like this-_

But he’s left shaking, trying to hold back tears as the memory is all he can think of. 

“Noctis,” a warm hand cupping his face.

No. “No, I’m not -” stifled by a small, smiling kiss.

 _You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._  Nyx repeats the thought in his mind, falling too fast, too hard. But he cannot say it.

The kiss strengthens, Noct pulling him close, closer still, until he’s lying on his back, glaive above him.

“You have…” the glaive starts, too lost in the galaxies held within  _those eyes_. “Wait,” he pushes himself up suddenly, lightly kicking off his boots as he does. 

“Can you…?” Noctis nods toward the light, tired of looking at the scar. Tired of seeing himself reflected in the eyes of the glaive.

Nyx wants to refuse, longing to keep looking at the Prince, but hits the switch off, a light _click_  the only sound in the apartment. Pale moonlight fills the empty spaces in the window nearest the bed, leaving highlights across the sheets. Noctis sits up, thinking for a moment of looking out into the night, only fear holding him back of finding someone looking back in.

Nyx kneels on the mattress, adoration swelling his heart. He pulls Noctis onto his lap, eyes now dark, filled with want. He studies the Prince carefully, wishing to memorize the detail that the night offers which the day cannot. Silver moonlight touched their skin, delicate highlights illuminating the room as Nyx plants kisses at his lover's neck, hands gripped into the backs of his thighs. Noct moans weakly, face turned toward the ceiling, eyes heavy with pleasure.

“Nyx - I don’t know if I want to-” he trails off, a lot more nervous than before, thinking of going further, suddenly unsure.

“Don’t worry. I’m not ready either,” he smiles lightly as he replies. _I’ve already crossed the line._  

He elicits from the Prince a stifled whine as he returns to kiss at the scar, just as gentle as before, working his way down with each touch. Noctis sighs, letting his hands run through the glaive’s hair; soft, messy, lined with thin braids. He threads them between his fingers, kissing at his neck, biting softly at the skin.

He hears a breathy laugh. “Little king,” the glaive starts. Noct bites harder, sucking at the warm skin, determined to leave his mark. He continues, earning a deep moan as he grinds his hips down hard.

“I thought you didn’t want to-”

“I don’t,” he agrees. “But,” he grabs at Nyx’s wrist, bringing his hand between them.

“Oh,” Nyx feels flustered, unsure of how to continue.

Noctis bites at the glaive’s neck again, working his way up, along his jaw, kissing at his ear. “Touch me,” he sighs.

Nyx blinks hard, figuring this _must be_  some kind of dream, letting Noct guide his hand beneath the waistband of his pants, feeling his heart falter. He forgets how to breathe as the Prince deftly hands him in return, his prior nervousness vanished. He kisses the glaive, returning his grip around his wrist as they embrace, exposed to the night. Noct kisses softly, his free hand resting on the glaive’s shoulder, gripping into the skin slightly. Nyx relaxed again at his touch, palming them both in his hand, slow, languid strokes, other hand gripping at the back of the Prince’s neck.

“A-ah,” Noct whines, fingers tracing and retracing a curved scar along the glaive’s collarbone as he ascends, mind becoming blank. He holds onto thoughts of _Nyx_ , how surprised he was at himself for wanting him _so badly_. Nyx picks up speed in his strokes, loving the stifled moans he receives from the Prince, feeling his back arc slightly, the distance between them - if there had been any - closing. 

He hears Noctis laugh slightly, between hushed breaths. “we probably shouldn't be doing this,” he offers awkwardly.

 _No kidding - I'm going to be killed for touching you like this,_  Nyx agrees, thoughts racing. “Do you want me to stop?” he breathes.

“No, never,” a gasping response.

Cursing himself, Nyx continues, ecstatic off of the sounds the Prince elicits from his throat. He feels tension rise between them, threatening to snap with a pleasured release. Noctis moves slightly, forcefully, rolling his hips into the glaive, feeling he’s close.

“Nyx, N- a-ah, Nyx,” Noct sighs, repeating the name like a broken prayer. 

“Yes, Noctis,” not a question nor command, but the last thing he'd want to say if the gods were to kill him after this. He kisses messily, biting at the lips still whispering his name. 

“Oh-h, Nyx-” a song-like moan as he comes undone, cascading tides of shaking breaths escaping him as the glaive comes soon after, low voice repeating his name. They hold each other as they descend from the high, stuttering breaths and shaky hands.

Nyx is the first back to reality, hands curved around the Prince’s hips, caressing him in his lap. He rests his face at his neck, their skin sticking slightly with sweat. The pale light of the moon embraces them both, their thoughts flowing together like water. Noctis can only sigh as he returns to himself, looking down into the glaive’s eyes, sparkling, reflecting perfect moonlight. His gaze was full of adoration, set heavy with exhaustion.

“You're…” but Noct is left speechless as he continues to stare.

Nyx doesn't push him, silent as he takes the moment in.

“You've…you're….” he tries again, voice cracking, wanting to say so much, finding no sense in the words that escape.

The glaive smiles. It's all he can do.

Noct blushes, barely visible in the night. He leans back onto the bed, scar seeming to glow by light of the moon, a long, burning line of remembrance. Nyx ignores it after a moment, letting the Prince lie back as he moves from the bed, finding a stray shirt from the ground. He returns, cleaning them off, chuckling at the way the Prince covers his face, embarrassed. Tossing the shirt aside, he freezes, unsure of what to do now.

Noctis, exhausted, invites himself into the glaive’s bed, rolling beneath the sheets with a pleasured sigh. Nyx doesn’t object, crawling in after him, holding him close, longing for his touch again. 

He turns toward the glaive, kissing him once, slowly, moving then to rest his face against his chest. He hums softly, Nyx not saying a word, not wanting to disturb him.

All feels quiet in the still calm of night. Insomnia shudders beneath a weight of cold, a threat of more rain to come. The busy streets die down into a soft hum of presence, life asleep. Nyx is too tired to think, drifting off into a strange state, knowing the nightmares would leave him be tonight. He hears the measured breaths against his chest, how calm, how dreamlike. He allows himself to drift further, assuming the Prince was long asleep.

But Noctis figured the same, resting against the gentle tides of the glaive’s heartbeat, nothing else recognizable in the night. In something less than a whisper, he manages to say what he had tried to so many times before. “You’re the one who’s beautiful. You have stars in your eyes every time you look at me.” He is quiet afterward, not knowing Nyx had heard him, whose eyes widened at the words, speechless at how to react. His breathing falters for a moment, his heart breaking at the sadness that lingered in the calmness of that voice.

Nyx looked through the thin parting of the curtain, the stars becoming vibrant as the night went on. He thought back through the day, how perfect it had seemed, but knew how dangerous this was. He pushed away the dread that followed the ecstatic pleasure, hoping he’d see the gods in his dreams again, if only to laugh at every one of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ooo! You could say all that training made the prince thirsty..
> 
> \- ;-; i hope you enjoyed the chapter! thanks again for reading along!


	9. Day 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- self-indulgent fluff, lined with doubt. That poor glaive.

\-----

 

_ Upon the hills where wind carried frail clouds _

_ It brought me visions of you _

_ In the rolling tides of oceans wide  _

_ It carried the song of you  _

 

_ Even in the rain, the sun brings no dawn _

_ But it brings the image of you _

_ When the gods have had enough of me,  _

_ Do you think they’ll spare you?  _

 

_ \----- _

 

The dawn swept Insomnia with a rush of cold, a hint to the coming autumn. The sky was clouded with a blanket of grey, deeper hues scorching the city’s horizon with hints of subtle rain. The low areas of the city, including the small, excluded apartment where two lovers lie, is shrouded in deep cold, an almost winter chill descending on tired inhabitants. Many woke early, shaken by the chill, stepping out into the street to greet friends and complain about the sudden change; the previous day had been so delightfully warm, making today feel like its ghost. A near-deafening silence cloaked the small apartment, nothing but the low hum of a fridge in the far corner. The glaive woke with a chill, then a sudden warmth at realizing that someone lie in his arms. The cold, stale air within the apartment felt like new life in his lungs at the recollection of the night before.  

Nyx woke slowly, hesitating to open his eyes as he focused on the warm feeling around him, as well as the slow, shallow breathing that echoed off of his chest. Recollections swept through his mind in slow, deep waves, each memory of a touch or a kiss seizing his tired heart with anxious hands.  _ Guess it wasn't a dream,  _ he thinks as he keeps his eyes closed, embracing the body against his own; he ventures along the shared warmth of the sheets, careful not to wake his guest. Warm, rough hands stroke along the Prince’s spine, stopping when he feels textured, knitted skin at his lower back.  _ Another scar?  _ The touches make the still asleep shiver, a gentle breath escaping parted lips. Nyx can only smile, an expression laced deep with quivering doubt. He feels as if the beating of his heart would wake the Prince, the rapid swells echoing to his throat. 

“Mmh,” a small whine, followed by a cold hand clutching at the glaive’s chest.  

Nyx responded with a kiss into the Prince's hair. He felt afraid to break the numbing silence, not saying a word.  

“Mmmh?” the sleepy confusion made the glaive smile, who hummed, amused.  

“O-oh,” a slow realization, “Ny-yx,” a cracked, sleepy voice. Rather than pull away, he tucked his face closer, inhaling his glaive. 

Nyx laughed; a soft, breathy, _so tired_ laugh. “G’morning, sweetheart,” his voice a deep calm, sure he might have been in a dream. The cool grey of Insomnia’s sky matched the monotone of the walls within, an encapsulated state on which no one could dare to intrude. Noctis emits a light moan at the words, kissing at the skin _so near_ to him. Nyx sighs, instinctively running a hand to the back of the Prince's neck, fingers combing through messy strands of butterfly black hair. Noct leans into the touch, kissing at his palm as it curves against his face, sighing at the gentleness the glaive carried.  

“‘mm dreaming,” he sighs, smiling.  

“That's what I thought, too,” Nyx responds, eyes still closed in a hope to leave the world behind, only focusing on the _way he felt_ as he confirmed his arms around Noctis’ back.  

Noct answers in kisses, slow and light across his chest, arching his way to the glaive’s neck, who could only sigh in return. He sank into the sheets, tightening his hold around the Prince, partially resting his face in that midnight hair. Noct hums against his deep sighs, more awake than before. The kisses met at the glaive’s jawline, soft lips meeting coarse stubble at his cheek, moving slowly to those lips again, Noctis hummed, satisfied at the touch. He relaxed onto the mattress, nestling his face gently into the warmth of the glaive again. He studied the scars across his chest, pale white storming out of tanned skin like bolts of lightning, varying in arching lines and thin strokes. Among the scars, he had not noticed before, were more odd, thin, tattooed lines, so misplaced along each other that the placement seemed almost specific. In the dull light of morning the stark black ink wrote itself along the glaive in a way that described him much differently; what Noct had been so used to seeing in measured steps away from him, the uniformed soldier only there to teach him to fight. Here, the title quite literally stripped away as he lie vulnerable before the one he swore his life to protect. 

“M-mh,” another sleep coated whine from the Prince as Nyx strokes a hand lightly along his back. The reaction lights a fire in his fingertips, an electric current colliding at the sensation of their skin. Nyx thinks of the moment, wanting more, wanting to love the other deeply, hearing his name in the form of a pleading cry the only noise in the room. He wanted to bite marks into that slender neck, traverse below that waistband again, go farther, _don't stop-_  

“N-nh,” Nyx groans to himself.  

“What'sa matter,” he hears the lazy grumble beneath him. The response instinctively makes him smile. 

“Noctis,” he sighs, not wanting to say more. “I feel like…I've really crossed a line, here.”

With that, Noct pulls away, Nyx cursing himself eternally for disturbing their restful, lazy state. He looks up at the glaive, his eyes swallowed in a fog of sleep, blues fading into a near silver, a deep tinge of purple lining. “Don't say that,” he says in a bit more than a slow whisper. “I know that was…a lot, but, I mean,”  

“I'm sorry.” 

“I don't feel like it was too much, I'm, mm,” his eyes cannot focus, he is  _ so adorably tired.  _

Nyx chuckles softly, running a hand back and forth from the Prince's ribcage to his hip, mindful of the scar he could easily see. The pale line breaking open a paler chest, a yawning mark of torturous guilt. Nyx pushed that thought far away. “I don't regret any of it, if that's what you're thinking,” he pulls Noct closer, _closer,_ than before. “Hell, I'd do it all over again, too,” he allows, biting at the edge of the Prince's ear. He shuddered with a whine, gripping his nails into the glaive’s chest. Nyx swears he hears a muffled _please,_ sending his thoughts whirling like a hurricane. He wants to do it again, _again, and again and again again again_ but he forces himself to continue talking.  

“I just,” a pathetic laugh follows, “I'm just a glaive.” 

Noctis _pushes_ himself away, sitting up suddenly, eyes burning. “Nyx, really?” his tone is flat, his conviction _still tired_.   

His eyes are widened. “It's true, Noctis, if people knew,” one fear laced with many. _I would be dead._  

“No one needs to know.” a lazy shrug.  

_I want them to know. I want the world to know I-_  

“Are you sure about this,” Nyx cuts to the point, sleepy, wanting nothing but to hold _his_ Prince again.  

Noct answers by launching himself at the glaive, legs tangled, pinning him to the bed. “Noc-” but he didn't want to hear anymore. _Just a glaive, come on, Nyx,_ he thought as he kissed hard and deep, lips parted to bite at the other’s. Nyx's muffled tones of surprise dwindled into soft pleasure, allowing the Prince to lick fire into his mouth, answering with a low hum of deep want. His hands trail around his back again, touching lightly at the scar he did not know, Noctis paying no attention. The kisses slowed, sleepiness overtaking the Prince, muffled laughter in his movements has he gently pulls away, looking down at Nyx, eyes full of calm.  

“I know who you are,” he starts slowly. “do you really think I'm shallow enough to care you're ‘just’ a glaive?”  

Nyx pulls him down into another kiss. “but you're the-” he tries weakly, Noct interrupting him.  

“I know who I am, too,” he says shortly. He moves himself off of the glaive, sitting up on the mattress. Nyx sleepily traces the scar on his back with a lazy hand, making the Prince jump. He stops to study the scar, strangely larger than he expected; a sprawling mess of knitted skin knotted together across a pale expanse. “How did….” Nyx stops, not wanting to push him.  

“Oh, that?” he looks over his shoulder, indifferent. Nyx pulls his hand away as the Prince lies close to him again, colder than before, chilled by the room. He gestured to the fresher mark on his chest, “this wasn't the first time I almost died,” he begins. Nyx's expression fixed to a worried glance, but he stayed quiet.  

Noctis continues as he lies against the glaive, comforted by his warmth. “It happened a long time ago - I was just a kid,” he returns the blankets around him, “we were out of the city at night. I can't really remember why - I was in a  car with a bunch of dad's people, I don't remember where we were coming from. Anyway - the car stopped, no, it was attacked? By this…mm, thing. This daemon, monster - it was huge.” he shook his head in remembrance of the night, lit by nothing but blood and fire. “It killed everyone, and it almost got me too, but then dad was there, and, yeah,” he stops, blinking hard. “I dunno what happened after that. Just took a long time to get better.”  

Nyx's heart felt heavy, focusing on the ceiling above. “I'm sorry,” was all he could manage.  

He answers with a wave of his hand. “It was a long time ago,” 

“How… old were you?” he feared to ask.  

Noct scratched at his temple. “Like eight? Ten?” 

Nyx sighed.  _ A daemon attack…an Empire set on killing a kid.  _ He holds his Prince close, wanting to erase the event from his mind.  _ No one should have to live with seeing that,  _ he considers, briefly reminding himself of his own past. 

Noctis sighs. “I've gotten used to that scar. It's never really bothered me. Not like…this one,” he leans away to touch at the raw line near his ribs. “I could have stopped this one.” 

The words cut into the glaive. A question burned at his mind. “Noctis,” the world felt quiet. “Do you really think you could have?” he trails a careful hand along the scar, studying along every edge of the torn skin.  

The question earned him a confused look, a slightly raised brow. “What do you mean?” He did not shy away from the glaive’s hand, his skin tensing slightly at the touches across the mark.  

Nyx wanted to tell him everything. _I had dreams about you, about you and gods that laughed at you - do the gods control you? Do they want to kill me? Do they...want to kill you?_  

“It’s...nothing,” he gives.  

“You think I was out of control,” 

Nyx says nothing. _I remember the way you looked at me when we shot spells at each other, I was terrified, I didn’t want you to -_  

“Maybe I was.” Noct seemed annoyed, staring at the glaive with heavy eyelids. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“No, I mean, it’s….”  _ Can the gods-?  _ “I just need to...get better. I’m, sorry, I know what you’re thinking - the - the god thing, isn’t it?”

Nyx’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?” 

A blush falls beneath the Prince’s eyes. “I...don’t know. I know you probably know about the Lucii and all that because of dad, but...also, I had a dream about you? and - no, stop, stop that,” he puts a hand over the glaive’s - now smiling - face. A muffled laugh escapes, followed by a kiss at his palm. Nyx then took the hand in his own, kissing it again. The blush on Noctis’ face deepens, but he tries to continue. “Anyway - you - it was weird - uhm, you? were there -” 

“As you said,” Nyx teases with a slight grin.  

“Shh - you asked me something really weird, and it made me think of - you asked something like, ‘can the gods control you’? and it was -- hm, wait, why are you looking at me like that?” Nyx’s grey eyes were wide, looking almost terrified at the recollection.  

“Just...similar to a dream I had,” he confesses. 

Noctis grins. “Yoooouuuuuu had a dream about meeeeeeee?” he laughs.  

“Oh, come on,” Nyx sighs, blush alighting his face. His heart felt weightless at the sound of that _beautiful, musical_ laughter.  

Noct rests close against his chest again, kissing lightly at some scars, and at tattoos he had not seen in the night. “Do you really think the gods can control me though?” he asks, one part curious, the other fear.  

Nyx considers. “When we used magic that one day, it felt like no matter how many times I called to you, you wouldn’t stop. I thought, ‘okay, he’s just stubborn’, but I saw your eyes. They shone like...god, something I had never seen before...deep as the night. Clouded in something else.” he says with a tone of adoration he did not mean to have. “I don't know if they control you. But there's something.” he laughs. “it sounds crazy, doesn't it,” 

“I dunno.” a pitifully small response. “but I'll try to control myself better? I don't want to…ugh, I dunno,” he says again.  

“Don't want to..?”

He looks directly at the glaive, waves of blue staring deep into tides of grey. “I don't want to hurt you. I've already hurt myself-” 

Another kiss into silence, the glaive rolling slightly to situate himself over the Prince. “You don't have to worry about me,” he says quietly, kissing him again softly, losing count a long time ago. Noctis hums, arms folding along Nyx's shoulders as he pulls him closer.  

“That's not fair,” Noct teases, sly smile across his face. Nyx smiles back, full of adoration, framed with something sadder. He moves off of Noctis, worried about making him uncomfortable. They lie facing each other, the glaive returning his hand along the Prince's scar. He does not notice the way Noct stares at him, eyes full of something close to a feeling he feared for so long.  

Noctis’ eyes follow his hands back to the glaive’s chest, where he studies the small, strange tattoos scattered across his skin. “Why do you have these?” he can’t help asking as he pokes at a line that strokes down near his ribcage, leading himself to another near his shoulder.  

A low chuckle in response. “They're Galahdian markings.” a simple enough answer, but one that surprised the Prince nonetheless. _You're -_  

Nyx noted his expression. “what? 's where I'm from,” he continues.  

“I didn't know you were from Galahd,” he starts, looking distant. “Y-you were…one of the….” he stops as Nyx nods slowly in return.  

Noct shakes his head, a sad laugh escaping his lungs. “Such a stupid kid,” he says to himself. “I always figured it was just a story,” 

“What?” 

“Dad told me about you and Galahd a long time ago,” he continues, running a hand through his hair as he sits up on the mattress.  “Told me about...the Imperials and how their attacks just...one day they attacked the region of Galahd. No one was sure of why, but I could tell it upset him when he talked about it,” he stopped, noting the dark expression crossing Nyx’s face. “I’m so sorry, I’ll- _dammit_ \- I’m,”   

“It’s fine,” he replies, emotionless. A small smile, “Keep going.” 

Noct nodded. “Okay - he didn’t say much about the place,” hesitation in saying the name again, knowing it hurt the glaive. “But I remember him telling me about two kids, ‘not much older than you’, he said,” Nyx’s expression lifted at the sound of Noct’s kingly impression, “and how he took you guys in after the...after what happened. Said you grew as brothers, and were excellent in magic,” he looks at Nyx for a moment, suddenly afraid to look too long.  

Nyx thought for a moment, wondering why the King would tell his son the history of his broken childhood like a bedtime story. _Leave out the details, but shine it up,_ he scowls inwardly. “Lucis left Galahd after that. Let the Nifs take care of it.”   

Noctis felt sick, regretting his words, regretting everything. “Wh-” 

“Nothing important to protect. Brought refugees like me to Insomnia so we could live less of a life than y-” he stops. He wants to take it all back. 

“Like me, and people like me,” Noct turns away, facing the curtained window. The grey outside darkened, a deeper threat of rain again.  

“I didn’t mean that,” 

“But it’s true. Nyx...just say it.”

“What?” 

“I’m not gunna be upset at you. I know you don’t like any of them - people like me, and why should you even like _me_?” His voice is shaking but it does not break, only falters as he exhales.  

Nyx is quiet, eyes on the Prince as he sits facing away. There’s a million things he _should_ say, a hundred more he cannot. His past was always difficult, only able to talk to Libertus about it, about life in Galahd as they spoke a fluid language they were used to. He wants to tell Noct everything and more, only able to place his hand over his arm, a gentle calm capturing them both.  

“ _I don’t hate you. I could never hate you,”_ he confesses in words Noctis does not understand. He continues, safe in his Galahdian tongue. _“Sometimes, when you look at me, I think I might love you.”_  

Tears well in the wild oceans of eyes that stare at him. “What was-? You sound...beautiful,” he whispers. Nyx laughs, it’s musical and light and it’s breaking the Prince’s heart. He memorizes the words, deep in an accent Nyx carried so weightlessly with a honeyed voice, smooth like the steel in his eyes as he spoke. He let those strong, warm arms embrace him again, not caring about anything else as he kisses his glaive, wanting to know the meaning, wanting to hear more. 

_“Beautiful, so beautiful,”_ Nyx teases, laughing as he speaks, knowing Noct has no idea. He holds the Prince close, knowing soon they would have to part. “Sweetheart -” stopping as he elicits a soft sigh at the name, “baby - oh, you like that one?” he rasps, hands running along the other’s skin, fire in his veins at the sound of the moan that escaped the Prince’s throat. He didn’t let himself go farther, knowing the morning was growing late. _“You are so beautiful,_ little king,” he sighs as he kisses his forehead, able to say so much more in words Noctis couldn’t understand. He realized he would have given anything to stay in this sleepy, dreamlike state of tenderness as long as he could, but both knew time would move bitterly on without them. 

The dreaded question of “what time is it, anyway?”, arises from Noct, his eyes sad. Nyx starts pushing him off, moving to find his phone, interrupted by a “no, nevermind, just stay here,” and pale hands gripping into his skin.  

Nyx smirks. “You know we  _ do  _ have to go to training today, right,”

“Noo,” a mock pitiful whine. “Don’t make mee-” 

_Unbelievable._ Nyx laughs, gently moving the Prince off of him. He dreads moving from the bed, back into a world where he needed to pretend nothing had happened. He stumbles across the room, fetching his phone from his coat pocket. He clicks the screen awake, _[1 missed call: Crowe]_ he ignores, noting instead the time: _[9:13 AM]_. “What time do we usually train?” he calls over his shoulder.   

“Uhh, before noon, usually,” a confused answer, tinted in sleepiness.  

A grin crosses the glaive’s face as he dresses, turned away from Noct. “You going to be too tired to show up today?” he smirks, weight of his Kingsglaive coat warm upon his shoulders.  

He can feel Noctis’ stare on him. “I’m fine!” he whines, embarrassed. “I’m not a morning person, okay?” 

Nyx thinks of how he had fallen asleep as the sun set, hands intertwined. _Feels so long ago._ “Whatever you say,”   

Noct eventually rolls himself out of bed, stifling a yawn as he finds his shirt. He searches for his phone, realizing it had ended up on the floor near the mattress. _[2 missed calls: Ignis], [4 new msgs: Prompto], [9:28 AM]._ He sighs. He glances back to the glaive’s bed, another world; one that was soft, gentle, vulnerable. One where he could be comfortable in the arms of someone else without a hint of worry about him. His focused moved to the door. Cold, unstable, _awkward_ reality was settling back in. Noct crossed his arms around him, unsure of how to move on.  

Nyx took notice, approaching him slowly. “You okay?” a slight nod is his response. _I know,_ he thinks sullenly, _this is a bit weird._  

“Nyx….” his blue eyes are dulled, tired, strange. _Where do we go from here?_  

He doesn’t know. His smile is sad when he tries to express comfort, a deep feeling in his chest that _we can’t be like this, we can’t do this again._ His resolve was to push himself away, set himself apart from the Prince, but he could not find the strength. “I’m,” he tries, to no avail; he knows this is the last time Noct would be so close to him. _For his own good,_ he tries to tell himself.   

Noct has other ideas, clashing with the glaive in a rushed embrace, arms folding tightly around his coat as he inhales the _warmth_ he was growing to adore. He nestles his head into his chest once more, eyes shut tight. Nyx holds his surprise in his throat, gently caressing the Prince in return. 

“I’ll try not to be this awkward later,” he hears muffled into his coat. 

Nyx smiles, kissing into his hair. _“You are so lovely,”_ he teases in his native tongue, living off of the pleasured sigh that escapes the Prince.  

They go separate ways to the Citadel, a broken heart suiting them both, the lingering feeling of a dream holding onto them tightly. 

 

\-----

 

Noctis walks through back alleys, shadows tilted by thin rays of sunshine escaping a sky of grey. He clicks around on his phone, deciding to call Ignis before anything else.  _ Two missed calls isn’t good,  _ he considers. A slight shiver surrounds him as he walks through the cold, scowling at the slate sky as if to stop the possibility of rain.

 

_ “Noct!” _ a sharp, pointed answer nearly startles him through the phone.

 

“Ahh, hey Ignis,” he cannot help but smile, imagining his expression.

 

_ “Where’ve you been! I had been worried, not even Prompto could get ahold of-” _

 

“Ooo, you two have been talking, huh?” Anything to distract from the conversation they would inevitably have.

 

_ “Nevermind that!”  _ Noctis chuckles at the stammered response through the line.  _ “Where were you?”  _

 

“Uhh, can we talk about this later? Can you just trust that I’m fine, I was just...uhh,”

 

_ “Were you with someone?” _

 

“What? Who-”  _ goddammit. _

 

_ “Prompto mentioned you were rather close -” _

 

“I didn’t tell him that!”

 

_ “Then what  _ did  _ you tell him?”  _

 

“N-nothing! Ignis, I have to go, I’m almost at the Citadel for training anyway. I’ll be back at the apartment later if you wanna hang out, alright?” he ends the call before Ignis can respond, blush heavy on his face, cursing Prompto for saying anything. He knew he’d have explaining to do later.

 

\-----

 

“So, how did your sesh with the Prince go yesterday? Seemed like you guys were back into the swing of things pretty well,” Crowe is cheery, her eyes bright despite the overcast settling onto Insomnia. 

“U-uh, yeah, it was good,” Nyx answers absentmindedly.  

“Just good, huh?” she fixes one of her gloves, swearing to herself when the fastened tie at the elbow comes loose. “Dammit, can you help me with this?” she holds her arm out at an awkward angle toward Nyx, who rolls his eyes with a half-smile.  

“What good are gloves you can’t tie yourself,” he comments as he fixes the knot. He looks at her, noting the wry expression upon her face. “What?” 

“You’re hiding something from me,” she ponders, flexing her hand to ensure the glove was fitted correctly. 

“N-no,” he attempts. “Dammit,” he says to Crowe’s raised eyebrow, causing her to break out in laughter. 

“Knew it,” 

Nyx hesitates. “We just...went out for drinks and whatever,” 

“And ‘whatever’,” she repeats, looking around them to ensure no one could hear. 

His voice lowered. “It was nothing, this is none of your business by the way,”  

“Hmm, nothing, though that mark on your neck says otherwise,” she jokes, pointing to skin that showed nothing but a faded tattooed line. 

But Nyx believed her. “Wh-” he  exclaimed, throwing a hand to his neck, irritated that he had been tricked - and caught. Crowe bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “Fucking busted,” she grins.  

“You keep this to yourself,” his tone darkens, knowing he could trust the mage with this but feeling like danger surrounded him, especially in the Citadel.  

“Oh my god, dude, you _did that_!” she speaks in a thrilled whisper, irritating the glaive even more.  

“It wasn’t like that! He just....spent the night? Oh, fuck,”  

Crowe gripped into his shoulder, shaking him with excitement in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, open-mouthed in silent laughter.  

“Come on, it wasn’t a big deal,” he tries, knowing it was the opposite.  

“Right right, of course,” she rolls her eyes with a wide smile. “I’m so happy for you right now-” she stops, noticing the Prince approaching across the field. “Man, I’m kinda surprised he’s here,” she teases. She pats Nyx on the shoulder with a grin, leaving soonafter to join her group of practicing mages. Nyx stands, strength to stand evaporating. He raises a hand to wave slightly, trying to act normal. _Everything’s…fine,_ he tells himself, only able to think of _how close_ he had held him just hours before, how _soft_ those kisses had been, how _cold and awful_ he felt now.  

To both his relief and dread, Noct just smiles as he closes the distance, a relaxed “hey” greeting him. Nyx just nods, unable to stop the grin on his face. _Damn it all._  

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you today,” he teased.  

Noct smirks. “You know I could kick your ass,”  

“Try it,” a playful taunt. 

Daggers clash within seconds, Noctis dashing toward the glaive, daggers in hand, new energy in his eyes. Nyx was fast, unsheathing his daggers with immediate response, heart beating like a punch to his chest. It’s easy for Nyx to deflect the attacks thrown his way, but he could see a change in Noctis; something that had been a distraction for so long had seemed to have vanished completely. _Me._  

Both swerved from slicing blades, stepping around each other in purely fluid motions, occasional clash of blades ringing out in the air. Nyx feels comfortable in this dance, a strange, settling calm resting his heart despite the danger. He had been afraid to look the Prince in the eye for so long, but he now glared with adoration into the deep blue. Noctis looked back, eyes alight with something akin to fire, a sly smile on his face. “You’re not winning this time,” he panted, swinging one arm to the side as an attempt to surprise. Nyx retaliated, slicing vertically upward to distract the attack. 

“You sure about that?” he laughs through heavy breaths, realizing they had not fought this close or this hard before. Amused, he looks down at his Prince, deflecting another hit. “Mm, if you weren’t so short I’m sure you’d have had me by now,”  

“Oh, that’s just cold,” Noctis growls, launching himself at the glaive’s chest with both blades vertically aligned. He blocks each with ease, sharp laughter cutting into Noct’s heart, weakening him at the knees. “I’m not that short!” he can’t help but smile at the jest nonetheless. 

The duel continues, Noct loving the challenge, loving the difference, Nyx loving it too, despite his doubts. They dodge a few more strikes from each other, Nyx a bit concerned at the exhaustion in the Prince, who was beginning to stumble in his movements. “You okay?” he says, before he feels the wind knocked out of him; in moments he sees the Prince above him, smiling victoriously. “Got ya,” he mocks, one knee on his chest, the other on the ground. Nyx could feel cold steel at his neck as he looked into Noctis’ eyes, which almost seemed to  _ glow  _ with some sort of fury. 

“Noctis-” one fear: if the gods really could control him, Nyx was dead right here.  

The pressure of the blade lifted, vanishing in his hand, no more than a blue flame. The light in those blue eyes dimmed, washed clean with a mask of worry. “Sorry,” he offered, seeing the glaive’s fear. 

Nyx touched his hand lightly, still near his neck after letting the dagger disintegrate. “Don’t worry about it,” his voice a nervous calm. Noct moves off of him, standing up again. He noticed a few of the glaives surrounding them, watching with bemused expressions. Noctis’ eyes grew wide with fear, worried that they had suspected what they had not even tried to hide. 

Nyx sat up, lazily picking up his kukris as he focused on the small group around him.  _ Shit _ , he thought, panic rising rapidly in his chest. He noticed the amused glances, most of them dissipating now that the duel was over. A few remained, watching the Prince awkwardly, Libertus among them, glaring hard. 

“H-hey, uh,” Noct begins, shaking dust from his pants. “Same time tomorrow?” 

Nyx nods, “sure,” trying to make his voice as even as possible. Nothing more was said. No teasing, no sweet gestures, nothing that remained from yesterday at all. The notion broke the glaive’s heart a bit as he stood up, watching the Prince leave with a small wave of his hand. He sighs, dusting himself off and resheathing his knives. The afternoon was settling in with coming rain; a deep chill set into his skin as well as his heart. 

“Sure looked like you had fun out there,” he hears a rough voice behind him, rolling his eyes at the sarcastic tone. He turns to see Libertus beside him, relaxing against a pillar of stone, his arms crossed.  

“Eh, not the worst,” Nyx simply replies.  

“Hmph,” Libertus wears an expression that matches the stone behind him. “Y’know...if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say something else was goin’ on here,” he says slyly.  

Nyx says nothing, but shakes his head as he smirks.  

Libertus sighs. “Y’know, I don’t care whatever it is this is,” he gestures a large, gloved hand toward the field, “but you can’t be stupid enough to think that the Prince actually cares about people other than himself.”  

He bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood.  _ Don’t you ever- _

“You know it’s true. He just needs you to teach him what his dad can’t, and when he’s done he won’t need you anymore,” he kicks his boot against the stone.

Any of the warm, comfortable feelings, even the comfort of the Prince being so close while he held a blade to the glaive’s own  _ neck _ had been entirely replaced by anger and deep doubt.  _ He...cares about me, I know he does…. _ “It’s not true,” Nyx sighs. “But think whatever you want.”

Libertus exhales from his nose, leaving without saying anything else. Nyx is left watching the afternoon set on the field, thickening grey clouds matching the deep cold settling into his veins.  _ I just want to hold him, _ he thinks about the Prince, heart heavy with a chilling sadness.  _ I’m not good enough for him, and I know that,  _ he decides.  _ Then what  _ was _ all that?  _ His mind trails again to yesterday, to the light in Noctis’ eyes, so warm beneath the barlights - the softness of his hair as he kissed into it, the  _ want  _ in every kiss the Prince returned. The doubt had existed then, but took over now, tinting the sweetness of those memories in a deep shadow. 

 

\-----

 

Noctis wandered back to his apartment at a slow, careless pace, enjoying the chill the incoming weather brought. He pocketed his phone lazily after reading a message from Ignis, telling him that  _ [I can’t make it tonight - something has come up. I will be there first thing in the morning.],  _ his way of saying Noct had some talking to do.  _ Fine,  _ Noct figured, feeling much too emotionally and physically exhausted to try and explain his actions. He had hoped the rest of the glaives would not suspect anything, and regretted leaving Nyx so suddenly.  _ I should have like, kissed him, or something, _ he thinks, realizing the action would have been impossible. 

The door to his apartment clicked shut heavily as he locked it behind him. This space felt too large, too empty, too cold after spending the night with the glaive, feeling so cosy and comfortable there. He sighed, something close to a heartsickness deep within him.  _ What will happen now? _ He wonders again, but thoughts of the previous night came rushing in. He collapses fully dressed onto his bed, a smile growing on his face as he laughed to himself lightly.  _ Oh my god,  _ he is giddy,  _ I can’t believe it’s possible to feel this way.  _

 

 

\-----

 

_ The gods have had their fill, _

_ Leave you with me, leave you with me, _

_ Our blood can intertwine onto the grass, _

_ But it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen _

 

_ Leave it with me, _

_ The image of you _

_ Over oceans and waves, upon broken hills _

_ The gods have taken all, but you and me- _

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you for reading! 
> 
> \- The next few chapters are going to slow a bit, I need to pace these events out but I promnis they won't be too boring ;) 
> 
> \- Galahd is one of my favourite lore pieces of FFXV that went unexplained, so I'm taking a few liberties with it. I'll include it more in future chapters, as well.


	10. Day 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Tension and doubt rises as Noct tries to defend his actions. Ignis and Crowe talk to the Prince in attempt to see where the situation lies. Everyone knows this is a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- shorter chapter, I apologize! 
> 
> -heads up: implied/established promnis

“You can't be serious.” 

Noct stared into his coffee, reflection blurred in the deep black. He could feel Ignis’ eyes burn into him, waiting for an answer. Prompto sat next to him, fiddling on his phone, feeling too awkward to interject. He had woken up to find them both in his apartment, coffee and breakfast prepared. Much of his surprise was held to Prompto’s being there, especially with Ignis, especially so _soon._ He amused himself at thinking Ignis would have made the first move, _Prompto would never be able to, I’ve seen how nervous he can get,_ he thinks, recollecting how flustered his friend would be at even the slightest possibility of contact with a crush.  

“Noct-” 

“I told you everything - what more do you want?” he did not look up, blush painted across his face. _Well, not everything - no one needs to know everything. That’s just for me and him._  

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh, “You know you can't be doing this.”  

Prompto’s expression flashed to a slight glare, “Ignis, that's a bit-” 

“And why not?” Noctis interrupts, looking at them both. 

“Noct, hear me out.” Ignis studies his coffee silently for a moment, the other two waiting in response. His expression was unreadable, as it often was; he seemed forever stoic behind a facade of calm control, something his friends often admired without telling him so. Finally, he continued. “You must realize it's a dangerous situation.” 

“Dangerous how?”  

“The Crown Prince and a Knight of the Kingsglaive aren’t exactly an ideal match.” 

“Well - no, maybe not, but-” 

“And what does he do if people were to find out?” 

“People don't have to find out,” Noctis stammered, embarrassed and knowing Ignis was right.  

“Do you really want to live that way?” Ignis’ voice was soft, but firm; Noct knew him to shield his emotion best, but he could see something akin to pity in his stare.  

There was silence. The apartment felt suddenly too large, Noct not knowing where to look, watching the steam rise from the set of mugs on the table. Morning sunlight peered through the blinds nearest the table, splaying thin rays across the polished wood. Prompto drummed his fingers against the table, a tune that did not exist. Anything to get away from the tension between the other two, Noct glaring from beneath his brow, Ignis an impossible calm.  

Prompto cleared his throat. “Ignis, um, why, why should it matter if he's from the Kingsglaive or not? I mean,” he continues as he blushes, “ _ I’m _ not exactly anything, really, but you-”

“I'm not exactly the Crown Prince, either,” he smiles at Prompto for a moment, Noct feeling more uncomfortable than before. Ignis turns back to him, “but it's not me who has a problem with him. I just want - as do we all - what's best for you.” 

Noctis refrained from rolling his eyes, but couldn't help feel a small sense of comfort. “I don't…want to stop seeing him,” he admitted, the size of his voice making him feel like a child. 

Another sigh from across the table. “Noct, you have to think of what's best-” 

“I can't - Ignis, what if this is the best? This isn't the worst situation, and you know that!” 

“Maybe not for you, but it certainly is for _him._ ” a strong stare from behind his glasses.  

Noct bit his lip. “I can make it work.” 

“You nearly _killed_ him yesterday.”  

A brutal reminder flashed in his mind of the blade he held  _ but did not hold  _ at the glaive’s own neck, how  _ beautiful  _ and how  _ helpless  _ he had been, how in a second he swore all he could hear was terrible, thunderous, haunting  _ laughter.  _

“That had nothing to do with it,” he defends, not wanting to bring the strange situation up. “He's the one helping me control myself, that was just…a mistake.” 

“A mistake - similar to when you nearly cut yourself in half?” a biting remark from Ignis, not wanting to sound as harsh as he had. 

“Ignis!” a small sound from Prompto.  

Noctis stood up. “That wasn't Nyx's fault and you know it,” he starts.  

“Perhaps not. But it was certainly fueled by  _ something,”  _ he implies, ever calm. “You can't keep going to these training sessions if the Lucian magic does this to you every time. It'll quickly become unhealthy.”

“So just because I'm bad at getting the hang of things means I can't be in l- means I can't be around him?” 

Ignis’ expression flashes to one of worry, perhaps pity. “I just want you to be careful, whatever it is you decide to do.” he folds his arms over each other as he leans on the table, “and to think of the situation through Sir Ulric’s perspective.”  

Noct rolls his eyes. _Sir_ Ulric. He feels small, his heart full with cold doubt. He knew Ignis was right, in a way. “He was the one…who….”  

The other two watch him, Prompto’s face painted with a sad sympathy, Noct knowing he and Ignis agreed. Ignis’ eyes shine, a stoic calm shrouding a pool of emotion. “I know you don't want to hear anymore,” he begins. “And I realize how difficult it may be to ignore the heart.” He earns a frustrated sound from the Prince.  

“I'm fine - look, I need to go to training now anyway, can you spare me this for later?” he says, tired, as he grabs his jacket, heading toward the door. “Who knows, maybe when I get there, I'll actually kill someone this time.” with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving his friends in an awkward silence.  

Prompto eventually spoke first. “Ignis…maybe you were a little too hard on him?” 

“I don't know. I should have thought over this a bit longer. I may have stepped out of line.”  

“N-no, not really, it’s just….” he sighs as he turns toward Ignis, “he _really_ likes this guy. I don’t know what it is, and he hasn’t said much, but I can just tell,” he pauses for a moment, brow furrowing. “Telling him all the things wrong with how he feels probably isn’t gonna help.” he says it in a positive tone, not wanting to offend the other.  

Ignis takes a moment, thoughtful. “I know. And I’m happy that he’s, well,” he tilts his head to the side awkwardly, “that he’s found such an odd match.” 

Prompto looks up at him, eyes bright with a violet tinged hue. “Who, Nyx? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy.” 

Ignis chuckles. “Nothing but honorable in the few times I've seen him. Doesn't say too much, but I've found him to be rather kind. You could almost say charming,” he adds, thoughtful. 

“Then why are you so hard on Noct about all this? You worried about him? Sure he almost died, that was him being an idiot, though.” Prompto moves from the table, empty and not-quite-so coffee mugs in hand.  

“N-no, not quite that,” Ignis stands, moving instead toward the couch at the end of the room, inviting Prompto to follow. “I trust the glaive to give his life for Noct, as most would.”

“Then-?” he sits beside Ignis, who pulls him suddenly, but comfortably, close. He rests his head against his shoulder, a familiar place.  

Ignis settles an arm around Prompto, relaxed. “Were it not for Noct being situated where he is, I'd have no issue with this. I don't have an issue, personally - but Noct doesn't understand the danger here.” 

“I'm not really sure if I do, either.”

“Insomnia is…quite tightly knit in its class differences. I'm not sure if you had ever noticed when you and Noct used to attend school?”

Prompto considers, thinking back. “I mean…once people knew he was the Prince, it was pretty whatever. He kept to himself most of the time, never bothered with the people trying to get an in with him or anything. He wasn't a show off.”   

“Yes, well - high rankings, nevertheless. Do you know much about Sir Ulric?” 

“Nope. Nothing, other than the glaive part.” 

Ignis takes a minute, thinking of where to start. Finally, “Nyx was a citizen of Galahd. The area was attacked by the Empire more than a decade ago. The survivors, saved by the King, were brought into Insomnia under Lucian care. His Majesty took effort to ensure the Galahdian refugees were treated as Lucians, but even today it is not the case. Ulric, along with other survivors, have lived rather quietly within the city, often unnoticed, as it’s preferred to the alternative. There’s an odd...prejudice, against the people from Galahd. Rather sad, really.” he implied, without saying more than he needed.

Prompto was quietly stunned. “I had no idea...how did Nyx get to where he is now?” 

“He and a few others from Galahd were found to be gifted in the use of magic and rather adept in combat despite their lack of training and young age. His Majesty took them in as part of the Kingsglaive in return for - well, that he had saved their lives, of course.” 

“That’s a bit harsh,” Prompto replies sharply. 

Another signature sigh. “It’s a bit more complicated than that - either way, this whole...thing, with Noct, is adding a rather large additional target on the glaive’s back, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“I mean, sure, but if he’s anything like I imagine, I’m sure he could handle it,” Prompto offers. “It’s not like he’d be killed for hanging around the Prince or anything, would he?” 

Silence. 

“Ignis?!” he sits up, eyes wide, pure with panic.  

“I don’t know,” a pained, quiet answer. He offered no explanation, not having one, instead wrapping his arms around Prompto, holding him close. Both thinking of a turmoil not belonging to either.  

After a time, Prompto laughs. “I don’t think Noct - hell, even the King - would let that happen.” 

“You may be right,” Ignis replies, kissing into blond tufts of hair. Prompto hums in response, tilting his head up to kiss the other fully, a muffled noise of surprise turned gentle, just like they were used to.  

“Ignis, he will be okay, right?” Prompto asks, not knowing whether he meant his friend or the glaive.  

“I think they’ll both be alright, no matter the outcome.” he says it in a form of comfort, but can’t make himself believe the words.  _ No _ , he wanted to say,  _ they might kill him,  _ Noct  _ might kill him if he allows the Gods control again, _ but he couldn’t tell Prompto that. 

Clouds scatter throughout the sky, momentarily shielding Insomnia from a burning sun. Two lovers hold each other on a stiff couch, wishing never to move again. Each thought of a multitude of scenarios, none belonging to them. How comfortable it was, a newfound care, the feeling of settling into another’s arms, able to rest. What about Noctis? - either would consider - or what about the glaive? How unfair, how painful, how difficult a loving heart could be. 

 

\-----

 

The training grounds are dusty, the air heavy beneath one of the summer’s final suns, a deep haze settling across the field. It is much too hot. Kingsglaive coats litter the ground, many glaives joining them, exhausted from the strange heat pushing down on Insomnia. Noct felt much the same, almost too tired to move, but determined to keep going. He felt a new love for training; it was something he and Nyx shared, something he had in common with no one else, excluding Gladio. He felt a huge difference in combat training versus the glaives’ method, and he grew to find he admired the latter much more.  

A clash of blades sprang him from his thoughts as he looked at Nyx, finding it more and more difficult to look away. He too, was without his jacket, pissed off at how hot the weather still was. Noct couldn’t help but study his arms, built and bare, gloves making strong wrists seem slender. His mind fogged with thoughts of those arms pressing him against the pale wall of his apartment, arms that deftly undressed him, pulled him closer, hands that traced his scar countless times, hands that worked him high - 

“No losing focus,” he hears suddenly, as if Nyx saw into his thoughts. He spoke short, cold, the usual warmth in his voice sapped away. His eyes were colder, and did not look at Noctis even once.  _ What did-?  _ His steel eyes flashed with exhaustion, but he kept swinging blades at the Prince, impressed at his reflex as he deflected both shots. 

“I’m fine,” he says sharply, confusion invading his mind. _What’s up with him? Did I do something?_  

Nyx backed away, a short break. “You sure you’re alright?” he sidestepped as Noct launched himself toward the glaive, a frustrated sound breaking from his throat.  

_Do you hate me like I hate myself?_  

Another swing with his right arm, blades clashing again. He ducks below the glaive’s own arm as he dodges, swinging himself around to attack him from behind. The glaive smirks, but deflects it just the same. 

“Nice try,” a flat response, lit by that crooked smile. Noct wants to kiss it off of his face. _I can’t believe how far away you feel._  

“I’ll get you one of these times,” he tries to flirt, but sounds angry through exhaustion.  

Nyx laughs, but cuts it short, forcing himself to stop. _Why?_ “You just keep trying,” he offers instead.  

And he did, swinging his weight at the glaive, blades clashing again, only for Nyx to shove him backward. Noct tripped over his feet, stumbling backward into the dirt, wind knocked out of him as he falls onto his back. He thinks he hears a smirk, a laugh, inwardly begs to hear _anything else_ as he stares into the daze of sky. For so long, Noct figured the only way he could connect with the glaive was in the midst of fighting with him; their duels managed to be so comfortably close, a place wherein Noctis didn’t feel the need to say anything, but didn’t feel awkward about it either. It was a place where he could stare into the other’s eyes without feeling for a second that he should look away. Today was much different. _It’s like you’re not even there. It’s like...like this all never happened._ A deep, biting feeling gnaws at his heart, leaving him cold. Leaving him feel something familiar, but far away. He pushes past the tear in his chest, the pain in his heart threatening to suffocate him.  

“O-kay, one, more time,” Noct breathes, gasping for air as he lay on the ground.  

A rumble of laughter from the glaive. “Come on, there’s no way. You’re hitting stasis in no time,” _Friendly but so distant._  

“Aa-argh,” he punches the ground with a limp hand.  

“Nyx!” a barking voice Noct didn’t recognize. Pushing himself onto his elbows, he looks across the field to see a group of glaives, stiff in expression and stature. He could see Libertus among them, glaring hard toward the Prince, who glanced at the ground in response. Some wore their masks, faces covered, as if on purpose.  

Without a word to Noct, Nyx heads toward them.  _ Geez, alright,  _ he thinks, dusting off his clothes as he sorely stands. Suddenly feeling awkward, he moves to sit near one of the stone pillars, long broken, since used as a regular resting spot. He wants nothing but to look back at the strange group, but hesitates, feeling outcast. 

A few minutes pass, thoughts running in Noctis’ mind like bullets.  _ Why is he being so weird now? Is he scared that I’ll hurt him? Does he…? Ignis is right - he’s right - he’s -  _

“Hey Prince,” a musical voice shakes him from his head. He looks up to see Crowe standing next to him, untying her gloves as she sits down nearby. 

“Oh, uh - hey,” he replies. 

“How’s it going today? You seem kinda off,” she remarks. 

“You saw all that?” he starts. “Damn, I dunno what it is, I just can’t clear my head,”  

“Too tired from the other night?” she teases. Noct blushes deep, looking down at his knees. Crowe laughs. “I’m sorry, I promise he didn’t say anything,”  

“O-oh,” is all he can manage, embarrassed. He glances over to the group, noticing an unfamiliar glaive with a sharp face and leering eyes staring back at him. He stares hard at the broken stone again, pained expression crossing his face.  

“You okay?” Crowe takes notice.  

“Do they know-?” Noct looks up at her, fear full in his eyes as he nods slightly toward the group. 

Her brows knit in a worried glance, a pitiful breath of laughter. “Don’t worry about them, there’s no way they’d know. Those guys don't pay attention to anything.”  

“I think Nyx thinks this was all a mistake,” he continues, unsure of why he felt so comfortable with the mage. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“He’s been...really weird, since,” he brushes back his hair with a sigh. “Like he doesn’t want to be near me. I know I get out of control with this whole - magic? - thing, I get that,” his voice is weak, he feels as if Crowe should laugh at him.

“Noctis,” his name sounds unfamiliar from her musical voice. “I think he’s just worried, like you are, about people like them,” she tilts her head toward the group of glaives, staring and talking in hushed voices, Nyx with them. “finding out about what’s going on. It’s a lot you both have to keep in mind.” 

“I wish it were easier,” he confesses. 

A huffed laugh. “Don’t I know it,” she agrees. “And the magic thing? You got this. I’m surprised you haven’t trained with it sooner.” 

“Normal stuff, I have,” he explains. “Warping is different, and honestly terrifying. It’s god-given, and They know that.” he shakes his head at the thought.  

Her amber eyes widen. “See, I never really believed _that,_ ” she begins. “But I know you can show Them what’s what. Doesn’t being an heir have to count for something?” a small smile followed.  

Noct laughed, his mood lightening at the thought. “I guess it’ll just take time to get used to.” He leans his head against the stone, eyes wide looking into the matching hue of the sky, blinking back something Crowe did not see. “Everything gets pretty overwhelming sometimes.”

Crowe was silent, heartstrings pulled tight at the pain she did not know. Noct watched her, wanting an answer but not expecting one.  

“Don’t give up on him. But, more importantly, don’t ever give up on you.” she finally says, placing a hand upon his shoulder, startled by the depth in the oceans of his eyes.  

“Okay.” _What does she mean by that?_  

She stands, noticing Nyx and the others dispersing. Noct follows suit, but turns to leave. 

“You don’t wanna hang around for a bit?” she asks after him. 

“I’m, no, not really. I’d feel weird about it.” he offers, feeling pathetic. _He probably doesn’t want to talk to me, anyway._  

“You sure?” a nod. “Alright, well, I’ll let him know you took off - don’t worry about it, alright?” 

Another nod. “Thanks,” he says as he departs.  

“Don’t mention it,” she calls after him. 

Despite the humidity, the broken air feeling suffocating in his lungs, Noctis felt himself surrounded by a deep cold as he leaves the field. His feet feel weighted, steps heavy with his heart, his breaths shaking, finding it difficult to see.  

“Hey Prince!” a warm, dreamlike familiarity breaks the cold. He turns around to see the glaive, arm stretched above his head in a slow wave. He pathetically raises his hand in return, surprised.  

“Same time tomorrow?” a question across the dispersing field, no one looking at him except for Crowe and Noctis.  

“S-sure,” he calls back, unsure if he had heard him. He continues walking, heart in his throat, doubt rising like never before. 

 

\-----

 

_ The void was so familiar now. He walks confidently, a stride not known to him even in the daylight.  _

 

_ “You can’t hide from me,” he screams into the realm where the sky should have been.  _

 

_ But silence was the only answer.  _

 

_ “No? Fine. Then you’ll listen to me. Get out - get out of my head. I don’t care what it is you’re trying to prove.” _

 

_ A response of deep, echoing, horrible laughter.  _

 

_ “Is that all you know how to do?” his voice shaking, his own tears spilling around him. “I don’t care about you - I don’t care about all this, and you know that.” _

 

_ A swirling mess of colour, making him sick. A mess of steel coloured eyes looking back at him, a kaleidoscope of error. A mess of words in a beautiful language he cannot understand. The words become twisted, as if spoken by the rolling voice that seemed all around him and nowhere at once. _

 

_ “Stop - just leave him alone, I don’t care - I don’t - “ _

 

“Stop!” he jolts up in bed, shaking. Realization hits at full speed, hand running through his hair as he searches the darkness for an answer as to  _ what the hell that was.  _

“Goddamnit, Nyx,” he says to himself, lying back on the mattress, shivering. “I hate this. I just want to see you.” his words feel pathetic, he feels childish, but it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- these poor boys! I hope they can talk this awkward stuff out....
> 
> -this dialogue is a bit odd for me to work through because of how diverse these characteristics are (mainly Ignis, Crowe) but I think working with them a bit more will smooth things out. Apologies if it lulls a bit!
> 
> \- I'll try to update the next chapter a lot faster! So sorry for the week+ long waits. Thank u so much for reading along so far! We are not yet halfway through!


	11. Day 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Confusion and doubt turn into turmoil. Noct deals with some hurt.

Morning air settled into a deep afternoon, sun hidden behind thickening clouds - for which many were grateful as the dust of summer brushed into a sweet autumn. The sky paled into a grey, an almost-fog settling across the entirety of Insomnia, the Wall threatening to suffocate those inside with heavy air. A storm was soon to arrive.  

Nyx sat atop a small pillar, its edge shattered and lying on the low ground not so far below. The training field was quiet, save for the mages, who always managed to exude musical volume with their technique. _It’s not that fun,_ Nyx considers to himself with a grumble, tones of his mood creeping into his thoughts. Besides the mages, not many other glaives had shown up, many being sent on recon, others depending on rain to get them out of another training day.   

He thinks back to the day before, where the Captain had called them over just as Noct had landed himself - again - upon the ground. _“Recon jobs start tomorrow - Ulric, you keep training the kid or go along for the ride,”_ he was so curtly told, deciding to stick around, hating recon jobs as they were. _Endless, and so, so boring,_ he thought. He tried his best to act like the strange looks he received from the glaives were nothing out of the ordinary, but he knew they had all suspected something going on. But he could not erase his heart, ultimately choosing to stay behind. _Besides,_ he had thought to himself on a lighter note. _Training you...being with you...is a lot better._  

Or so he had hoped. It was mid-afternoon, and the Prince had not shown up. Frustrated with him, and more so with himself, Nyx spent most of the day atop the stone, glaring into the sky, wondering where things had stopped short.  _ It was me, _ he figured,  _ I was so cold to him yesterday. I’m not surprised he isn’t here. I’m not - I shouldn’t care about this - but I - goddammit all, where is he? _

“You gonna mope up there all day or what?” he hears beneath him. He closes his eyes hard, unwilling to answer. He recalls yesterday, how she had looked at him with a hard stare as the Prince left. They had been talking about him, he knew.  

“Crowe,” he simply says.

“Get your ass down here,” she says flatly, getting directly to the point.  

A few seconds later, a lazy warpstrike brought him next to her, flash of beautiful blue seeming to illuminate the washed out grey of the sky. Nyx is ashamed to look at the mage, her arms crossed, her face knitted in a tight, angered expression.  

“You’re not getting away from me this time after running off yesterday,” she starts, gripping into the shoulder of his coat with a firm hand. He watches her grip, then glances at her.  

“It’s not like I’m trying to run away,” he raises his hands in a faux surrender, making her expression grow darker. “I just figured there was no point in sticking around yesterday if the Prince was gunna take off like that-” 

“Nope. No, you do not get to put this on him, that poor kid.” 

“‘Poor kid’?” he shakes Crowe’s hand off his shoulder, glaring, as he sits on the stone ruin nearest them.  

“What’s up with you? Pushing him away isn’t going to help you, and you’re breaking his heart,” she replied, crossing her arms as she sat near him. She kicks her foot against the hard stone, frustration getting to her. 

Nyx sighs. “I’m not...trying to push him away,” he admits. “I just don’t know what to do,”

“You are _really_ bad at this,” Crowe starts. “You spend the night with him, and then treat him like nothing happened? Come on, man,” 

“I know!” Nyx admitted. “I’ve...never really done this and I don’t?? We can’t let people find out, no matter how badly I want them to-” 

“What?” the mage’s face lights up suddenly, eyes wide. “ _You_ would want people to know? This is a surprise,” her thoughts trailing to how reserved, how quiet Nyx was personally, never loud about his own matters. The idea of him being loud, being _happy_ , broke her heart as she smiled.  

“Are you kidding?” he looks around, checking to make sure no one could hear. “If I could, if it were possible, goddamn....I’d tell the world.” a smile reaches his lips, thoughts running wild.  

Crowe is incredulous. “Nyx-?” she watches as he lies back on the stone, staring up into the sky again. He laughs. He laughs like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done, his usual rumble turned musical and light.  

“I got to kiss the Prince of Lucis,” he says quietly. He covers his face with a rough gloved hand, hiding the grin he cannot stop. 

Crowe rolls her eyes but cannot help smiling at how happy he seemed suddenly. “Damn it,” she laughs.  

“More than once,” Crowe swears he can hear him _giggle_ , a childlike sound. She shakes her head, _holy crap._ He continues. “And I got to hold him while he slept. Did you know he snores a little bit? It’s adorable,” Crowe groans in fake exasperation as she looks into the sky, not seeing the lines of tears escaping the glaive’s own eyes. He wipes them away before she looks back again.  

“My god, dude,” she can only smile. “Why don’t you tell _him_ this?” 

“I can’t,” she is shaken by the sudden drop in his voice, the  _ joy _ gone.

“What?” 

“Crowe,” he sits up again, grey eyes shrouded in sadness. “We can’t do this, I can’t...I can’t just be with him, I can’t feel happy like this because - he’s the Prince. I’m not, I’m not good enough for-” 

“Ah, Nyx, goddamn it,” Crowe can’t help but say, seeing his point and knowing he was partially right. “Don’t be hard on yourself. You can’t help who he is. And he... _really_ cares about you.” 

“What did he say, yesterday?” 

She shrugs. “Just worried that you thought - whatever you guys did… was a mistake,” she winces at the pained expression that crosses the glaive’s face. 

_A mistake....the only mistake I made was letting you go._  

“Crowe…? I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, voice weak.  

“I think you need to go to him,” she says firmly, “and tell him how you're feeling. Don't let him think you hate him…no matter what you decide to do, you need to talk about it.” 

Nyx nods. He wants to run to him, he wants to hold the Prince in his arms, but takes a moment to find the strength. 

“Okay. You're right.”

“Of course I am!” she laughs, watching the glaive stand. He adjusts the multitude of fastenings upon his coat, suddenly conscious of every flaw. Crowe raises a brow instinctively, curious at his anxiousness. “dude, just go,” she says finally. He glances at her.  

“R-right.”  

But his knees feel weak as he walks, hearing a “let me know how it goes!” from behind him in that ever cheerful, musical voice of the mage. He waves to her passively with a shaking hand, unsure of  _ how  _ and  _ why  _ but determined all the same. Heart filled to the brim with doubt, the glaive is swallowed whole by the city of Insomnia as he disappears into the streets without a trace. His pace quickens, fueled by thoughts, by  _ that voice,  _ by  _ his touch, _ by anything reminiscent of the Prince at all. 

 

\-----

 

Noctis watches the clock on the stove like it was going to tell him something new. Silence took over his apartment like a ghost, a sense of everything being _too quiet_ yet somehow, all too loud at once. His thoughts ran like a bullet train, no scheduled stop in sight.  

_I can’t go back there,_ he thinks, still recovering from the cold, the silence that the glaive had offered him. So unusual compared to his familiar warmth and kindness, it was something that terrified him. The idea made him think of what Ignis had said, that this _was_ dangerous; having to pretend almost as if they hated each other in the public eye was not a way Noct wanted to be with the glaive. _I just want to like...go out with you - I don’t want to hide away like this is some sort of crime._ He sighs, frustrated, moving to lie on the couch, _tired of just standing around._  

The ceiling is familiar and unfriendly. Noct stares into it, looking for an answer to the dreaded thought trudging through his mind. _How can we make this work? Is it even worth it?_ He allows a frustrated sound to escape from his throat. _I gave myself to him, and he acts like it's nothing…so much for putting myself out there,_ he smirks to himself pathetically. _But I know there's more to this…why did I think this was alright in the first place?_  

 

_ “don't give up on him - don't give up on you-” _

 

Crowe’s confusing words still echo in his mind. He finds that he's fond of the mage, finding her so pleasantly easy to talk to; she broke the barrier of his higher class without a question or another word, and he preferred it that way. _There's nothing special about me, no need to act like there is._ Her words were kind, but not soft, and handled his situation similar to Ignis, only without the layer of protective care. Noctis hoped he would see her again.  

He clicks on his phone, a message from Prompto.  _ [hey -! sry about yesterdayy - wanna hang out? Lmk],  _ to which he replied shortly,  _ [not up to it, sorry. Thx tho],  _ feeling it best to have time alone to sort out his thoughts. The couch beneath him felt like a rock, uncomfortable yet unwavering, a place of stability amidst the storm he felt trapped in. 

Minutes, perhaps hours, swept past, of which he did not know. A slow knock at the door startled him from a half stupor, jumping from the couch to approach the threshold. Not wondering who it was, not really caring, he unlocks the door, swinging it open.  

Not expecting him. “U-uh, hey,” he manages, staring at the tile beneath his feet.  

“Mind if I come in?” a familiar warmth. Noct backs away from the door to allow the glaive inside, confusion masking his hurt momentarily.  

Silence, neither sure where to start.

 

_I've missed you._  

_ Can I kiss you again?  _

_I want to hold you._  

_I don't care what they'll say._  

_ I just want to see you again.  _

 

“Sorry for...not showing up today,” Noct finally says, looking anywhere but at the glaive.  

“Don't worry about it, just- is there something wrong?”

_Of course there is._ “Not really, I guess - just figured you has like, a mission or something to go to,” implying the group of glaives who had made him feel so violently outcast.  

“I told them I'd rather train with you,” Nyx replies, _it was true._  

Noct’s brow furrows, sense of anger crossing his face. “Why?”  

Nyx is taken aback slightly. “Because it's true?” he answers.  

“You sure about that?” he doesn't say more, no matter how much he wants to.  

Nyx is quiet. 

“I guess - are we…done? Like, training, should I just go back to Gladio again?” the thought springs from nowhere and surprises himself, but he doesn't want to take it back. 

“No!” such a sudden answer, but he can't help it. “Noctis, where is this coming from? Please talk to me,” everything he had told to Crowe, every happy entity vanishes.  

“Nyx, what are we doing? Since that night we - you -?” he isn't sure of how to continue. “I feel really weird. If you don't wanna see me anymore, I, I get that - I wouldn't want to see me either-” 

The glaive comes closer to him, hands on his shoulders, interrupting his words with a kiss that presses him against the wall. Nyx can feel the choked back sob, a broken sound in the Prince's throat. But he can't stop; he kisses deep, burning, hungry - he  _ wants  _ more, he  _ wants it all.  _

Noct responds in a similar vein, answering the strength of those kisses by allowing the glaive in, tasting deep smoke, feeding the fire of his heart. He pulls the glaive closer, hands grasping at cold Kingsglaive chains, at tufts of fur decorating a shoulder, clutching at anything,  _ I want this, I can't let you go again, what if you don't come back?  _ The thought pains his chest too much, he breaks away, stifling tears in his eyes. 

“Nyx,” his voice shakes, he is wavering in a storm. _Don’t do this to me, please,_ he needs to speak, he needs to say _anything_ but words fail him at every turn.  

_“I want you,”_ he doesn’t understand the words, but his tone is enough to make his heart stop. He rests his head against the wall, heavy lidded eyes staring up at the glaive, losing focus. He feels a hand on his chest, warm, gentle, gripping slightly into his shirt.   

“Nyx...please,” his words are little more than a whisper, shifting his eyes away, trying to focus on anything else, needing to get away. _But I don’t want to get away from you, god dammit-_  

Another kiss, slow and deep, the glaive’s free hand caressing Noct’s face, the other falling to the curve of his hip. He hates the feeling of the low moan that escapes from his throat as he feels that hand brush against the inside of his thigh. His thoughts run freely, a tuned out vision of the glaive taking him to bed, undressing him slowly, gently - but he did not know what to expect further. 

_ If I let him do this…what next? _

“N-nyx, no,” it takes everything to push him away.  

“Noctis - fuck, I’m sorry,” guilt rises in his chest as he shakes his head, brow furrowed. 

“Not that,” he starts, straightening his position against the wall. “Yo..u… if… goddammit,” 

“What is it?” 

“If we do this -” he stops again at the thought, face feeling hot. “Are you just- are you -?” he feels pathetic, he feels confused. 

“Noctis,” he knows what's coming.  

“Stop - just, please,” he tries again. “Are you just gonna pretend like this didn’t happen? Again?” 

“Again?” a raised brow.  

“Are you kidding me? Why have you been so weird? I tried to so much as talk to you yesterday and you didn’t even…? You didn’t, you didn’t care that I even showed up,” the train of thoughts crashes, spills over onto a broken track, iron rails blazing white hot, reaching the point where he cannot see. His sight is blurred, visions of a blue haze interrupting reality, until everything is collapsing into a mess. “Fuck this,” he cries. “I don't want to be treated like this - like all this doesn't matter.” 

“Noctis, don’t - there’s a lot - goddammit,” he’s flustered, confused, and hating himself. 

“No - what if we did this right now? What would you do after?” he dreaded the answer, but received none. “I know - I know...use me - pretend like it never happened. It’s too eas-” 

“Don’t ever think that,” a heavy tone, darkening the glaive’s expression. A tone so suddenly sharp Noctis backed against the wall harder, as if to draw back farther away. Nyx took notice, whirling around, stepping away with a hand covering his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” a hundred times softer than before. 

“What are we doing,” Noct leans forward, half bent over to stare at the tile of the kitchen floor. He blinks hard, a single tear escaping.  

Nyx is silent. He’s gentle in his movements, minding not to startle the Prince again. He crosses his arms as he faces him. He clears his thoughts, allowing himself to explain. “I don’t know. I don’t...I don’t want to get into something neither of us can handle but I don’t want to just let you go-”

“Neither of us can _handle??_ ” Noctis feels a fury rise, “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” 

“What?”  

“You’re...the fucking, you’re scared of me, and the _stupid_ gods that ‘control’ me, aren’t you?” 

Nyx almost laughs. “No. They can try to scare me all they want. It’s not working.”

A breath of relief. But, “then what? What is it?” 

Nyx looks at the ground, looks up as he pathetically answers, “the Prince with a glaive?” 

Noct feels the air escape his lungs. “Are you serious,” he can’t stop the growl, the anger, rising. Neither can he help but feel that Nyx was right.  _ I hate this and I wish I could hate you, too.  _

“Noctis...I don’t want to end this,” 

“Then why are you here?” he cannot look at Nyx. He can’t allow himself to look at him, knowing if he does his heart would break. 

The question cuts into the glaive’s heart. For a moment, he cannot breathe. The words make no sense, but open up to Nyx a horrible, difficult truth. For a moment, he feels as though time had slowed, time had left them both hanging in a horrible purgatory; for a moment, he wished the Gods would interfere.  

But there was nothing to interfere. Nothing to interrupt a deafening silence neither wanted to survive. Nyx wanted nothing more than to rewind, to go back to _that night_ and _that morning,_ be able to hold him and _feel_ him as close as was possible. He wanted the ‘good mornings’, he wanted to see the blush light up the Prince’s face as he teased him in words he couldn’t recognize. He longed for grey skies in return for loving touches, small kisses of adoration at each others’ skin. He longed to say words Noctis would never hear, a fleeting sense of happiness that made him laugh, elated, _joyful_. But it was as if a barrier kept Noct away, who stood still against the wall, looking hard at the floor. Nyx’s expression flashed to a hollow stare, brows angled sharp with worry. He could not take his eyes off of the Prince. But the Prince would not look back.  

“Nyx.” a whisper that would shatter what felt like a year long silence. He still did not look up from the floor, memorizing the dark pattern in the glistening tile. 

“Yes, little king,” he knew the pain the words would cause them both. He embraced it as best as he could, needing to say it at least once more.  

“Don’t,” he chokes. “Don’t do this,” his hands try to grip the wall behind him, knuckles white at the pressure.  _ I can’t do this, don’t make me do this- _

A step closer. “Everything’s on the line with us,” Nyx’s voice is broken, he’s not sure if Noctis notices, but he continues. “But if I were scared of anything, it’s-” 

“That they’d kill you?”

“No - I don’t care. But I don’t want to hurt you-” 

“Oh, come on. You’re just sayin-” 

“Noctis, listen to me. I held you so close after that accident. I’d never been bothered by seeing blood so much in my life. I told myself I could have stopped it - I still believe I could have...sometimes,” he pauses, tone lightening, a small smile reaching his lips, “I see you in my dreams, lying there. When I try to get close,” he chokes. “All I can see is the blood again - this was _my_ fault...Noctis, if I ever hurt you like that, I would _never_ forgive myself. I don’t care what the ‘Glaive thinks of you - I don’t care if you’re a Prince, I never have-” 

“Yes you do-” his voice is strained, breath in his lungs difficult to find at the confession. 

“But what I think doesn’t matter to them. Because when it comes down to it, I am just a glaive...a Galahdian one, at that,” he adds, the words rough from his throat.  

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Noctis tries.  

Nyx tries a smile, but the motion hurts. “Noctis, my entire life is within the Kingsglaive,” he continues. “I have no doubt in my mind I would lose that if - if people knew,”  

Noctis wants to be angry, knows he should be, but he can’t. “But I want - to make this work,” not much more than a whine.

“I want nothing more.”

 

_ But why can’t...why does this feel so wrong?  _

 

He wants to cry, wants to feel something - but he knows he can’t bring Nyx closer. He knows the glaive is right. 

 

In a distant world, apart from Eos, there are two lovers who struggle on a distant plain, a battle of clashing knives and blades. They are on opposing sides. Together they fall, blood mixing into the grass beneath their bodies. Their arms lock, they smile through the blood staining their teeth. It had been an endless war. These soldiers were tired, these soldiers were over - but they were able to have an end together. The rain washes their blood into a muddy pool, they are crumpled together under a setting sun. No one would remember the lovers, but who they were was never important. 

 

_“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? I need to say it one more time,”_ it’s better that Noctis doesn’t understand, but the words haunt the Prince’s memory still.  

“Please, Nyx,” every fiber of his body is shaking, and he’s calling upon anything that’ll listen to hold it together. _Please stop. Please. Please stay. Kiss me again, take me to bed, it’s right over there, please, goddammit Nyx, goddammit!_  

_“Never forget your strength, young king. You will do so much - I love you.”_ The words the Prince cannot understand are too broken for Nyx to hear them himself; tears are streaming freely from his face but he does not feel them, only looks at Noctis once more before he turns to leave. He memorizes the way his face is framed by strands of midnight, how his eyes _always_ shine like an ocean reflecting the moon.  

There's something he wants to do, wants to scream at the top of his lungs that no, he cannot leave him, not like this. But the glaive’s heart is bleeding into his throat; he can no longer say a word. His footsteps are quiet on the floor, his vision a mess of tears as he reaches the door. He cannot look back at the Prince. He can't allow himself one more weakness.  

Noctis does not stop him. He cannot move. A click of the closing door shakes him apart, and he feels his body collapse, cold tile uninviting and hollow as he meets them. The glaive does not see him crumble into pieces, does not hear the shallow cry tearing from his throat. He is not there to stop the oceans of tears that would pool to the floor. The world around him lies in ruin, the sky emptied of its stars as they reflect in the kitchen tile. _I hope you’re laughing now,_ a bitter thought, made bitter still from the deep, rumbling echoes the only thing remaining in his mind. _It would have been easier if you’d just killed me back then._  

Silence broken only by sobs filled the vast room. Nothing besides remained. The Prince cannot move, frozen in time with numb limbs and a broken heart that bleeds endlessly into a sparkling tile floor. He cannot see the glaive, perched upon a broken stone pillar, the highest one he could reach. He does not hear his broken cries, horrible sobs echoing a haunting melody throughout Insomnia as the moon reflects in the sadness upon his face. His chest heaves violently, aching and terrible cries unleashing from his throat. The moonlight is blurred into a glowing haze through the lens of ocean tears. There are gods in the sky, far away, circling in a blue and endless void. A sense of solemnity echoes through ghostly armor and hollow eyes. They do not laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i'm sorry ;_; 
> 
> \- as always, thank you for reading!


	12. Day 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nyx clashes with the glaives. He opens up to an unlikely friend.
> 
> \- We're all just kinda sad right now.

His lungs were full of dust. Not like breathing had been easy of late, but being back in Leide worsened the state because of the brutal, dry air. The flat heat did not help feeling of being further trapped within Kingsglaive garments, hood and mask fully equipped. _No one knows who I am here_ , he grimaces. He walks along a broken highway alone, a recon mission separating a group of six glaives, who had planned to meet together at the end of the night. He watched a beat up truck pass by, older than he could figure out, rumbling along cracks in the sun-bleached pavement. The flatlands of Leide could not be more different from the deafening metropolis he was so accustomed to now; there was nowhere to hide from the burning sun, no solace even in the dead of night. It was evening now, not even the allowance of a breeze to cool off the flattened plain and its distant, rocky hills. Yet no matter how dark and unsettled he felt within his heart, he could not deny the beauty of the setting sun as it lowered behind an unsettled horizon, bleeding through cracking cliffs and tendrils of clouds that bled across an endless gradient of deep orange into white.  

It had been more than two weeks since the recon missions began, and more than two weeks since everything had seemed to fall apart. Nyx walked on, the thought making his knees shake. He swore he had not felt the daylight since it happened, no warmth in his heart despite the heat the sun cast onto his face. No usual light in his eyes, no caressing affection in his voice. The world itself may have been reduced to a hollow sphere, nothing left for the glaive to rejoice in.  

The sun set below the cutting horizon, the plain feeling yet more alone and distant than before. Darkness swallowed the glaive and he was thankful, slowing his pace, daring the daemons to come out. He was too close, however, to the beaming lights of a nearby station, nearest to Insomnia and brightest lights in Leide; a mechanic's turned one-stop shop, Hammerhead. Nyx had heard more of the place than he'd seen, only having passed it by a few times before. He knew of Cid, an old friend of the King's, and often referred to as a ‘legendary’ mechanic. Many no longer used the term, however, often considering his granddaughter as head mechanic instead. Nyx hadn't heard much of her, but what he had had been only positive. He sees the powered out sign, still illuminated by nearby poles of lights that threatened to blind those who passed by, daemons included.  

A chill of night settled in as Nyx approached the signs of the station, spotting Crowe leaning against one, not relaxed, mage hood cloaking her identity entirely. Nyx knows her by the long ties of her gloves, her stature as she stood against cold steel. She waved him down as he approached, knowing him by the strands of royal purple silk that thread behind his back. _Fancy, figured you'd have actual armor, not just-_ the usual voice, singsong and dreamlike, echoes in his thoughts, everything feeling _too close_ and finding it _too difficult to breathe_ for the countless time since he'd left. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't make the voice leave, repeating loving words and cries of the glaive’s own name, couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by those _beautiful_ eyes. _Dammit._  

“Hey, Ulric,” she comments as he approaches the haloed illuminations of lights shining on cracked cement, emptying the world outside.

He offers a grumble in response, no energy for anything else.

“Everyone’s waiting inside, if you wanna get a drink or something?” he could hear her concern, happy he could not see her eyes.  

“I’m fine,” he says, but follows her anyway.

The small stop is dimly lit compared to the lights outside, a small gathering of glaives perched around a booth and taking up half of the counter space. A lanky man manages the bar, dark eyes reflecting cold from the lights but a warm smile greets Crowe and Nyx as they walk inside. They sit at the bar, close enough to the rest of the group but not sparing much of a greeting, other than Crowe who waved at Libertus with a small smile. He offered a smile in return, but raised his brow at Nyx, who continued in his silence.  

The man behind the counter greets them in a friendly tone, Crowe answering him with a request of two coffees. A half smile in return.  

“It’s not very fresh,” 

“Eh. no matter what’s in there, I’ve had worse,” she says with a grin, and the man answers in a shrug, followed by the _clink_ of two mugs on the table.  

She slides a mug over to Nyx. The coffee is almost cold, it tastes reminiscent of dust, but it’s _not_ the worst. “You doin’ okay?” she starts quietly. 

_No._ “For the most part,” he offers with a sigh, his voice is cracked from little use. 

“Have you...heard anything, since?” she spits out the question awkwardly, not knowing how else to say it.  

“No.” he hadn’t heard a thing. 

Nor did he want to. He wasn’t expecting Noct to come back to training, figuring he had gone back to Gladio instead, or stopped altogether. _He’ll be just fine,_ he figured. No matter how much he had wanted to see him again, no matter how much his heart bled into his veins in a violent torrent - he had to tell himself that _it’s better this way._  

“So you’re just...gonna let him go?” she stares into her mug, half full, hesitating to look at the glaive.  

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says after a moment, hushed enough that the other glaives do not hear.  

Crowe raises an eyebrow. “Since when are you a fan of that?”  

He sighs. “We’d lose everything if someone found out,”  

“Found out what?” a voice cracks from behind them, stunning the room into a deafening silence.  

Nyx says nothing. He is shocked with a slap at his back, shrugging at the contact from Libertus, who stood behind him.

“None of your business,” he finally offers into his mug, trying to ignore the smirk that crosses the other’s face.  

“Hmph. Hey, noticed your Prince ain’t around anymore,” he crosses his arms and leans closer. “What’s with that?” 

“Just had enough, I guess,” he tries to hide the shake in his voice as best as he can. Crowe is looking at him, brows knitted and eyes wide with worry.

“Told you he wouldn’t need you anymore,” he _laughs_.  

“Pretty sure he doesn’t need the training anymore,” he offers instead. 

Libertus cocks his head to the side. “No? Already tired of the stuff you do in bed, too, huh?”  

Nyx breathes as slowly, as evenly as he can. Crowe turns away from both of them, not wanting her expression to give away the truth.  

“So what happened? Not big enough for him? Or did he find someone else? He is the Prince after all, he could pay anyone, really-”  

In seconds Nyx has Libertus by the collar of his coat, glaring hard with eyes on fire. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about him like that,” he starts, a tongue only they can understand, unable to conceal anything anymore. _Nothing matters._  

Libertus just laughs in return, placing a heavy hand over Nyx’s wrist. He stares beneath a heavy brow, eyes mocking the glaive for being _so stupidly in love_ with someone he couldn’t have. The other glaives are hushed as they watch the rage burn in Nyx’s eyes, seeing a truth unfold that no one had begun to realize. They mutter amongst themselves, a table of four discussing Nyx’s life untold; _“wait, Ulric slept with the Prince?” “when did_ this _happen?” “I mean, I guess they have been pretty close-”_

“ _Shut up!”_ Nyx belts, tightening his grip on Libertus’ coat as he glances toward the table. They stare back, quiet and slightly cautious.  

“I guess I was right, huh,” Libertus’ voice is sly, is taunting him. The hand gripped to his coat lights on fire, a violent magic fueled by emotion that had been locked away.  

“ _No,”_ another Galahdian response.  

“Take this outside, fellas,” a kind, yet firm answer from behind the bar. Nyx turns to him, letting his magic go as he loosens his grip from his friend’s neck. He turns immediately to leave, saying nothing to Crowe or anyone else.  

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” he hears Libertus call as he leaves, his voice strained from something he could not recognize.  

The air outside is cool and dark, it is comfortable for the glaive. He looks up at the dead sign of Hammerhead, lights half burnt out, others neon red and pink and weirdly unsettling. He warps to the top of it, deciding to settle there for the night. There are fresh tears in his eyes, not for the first time today, not for the last - he loses himself in heaving sobs again, feeling he should be used to this by now, but it’s still painful all the same.  

He lies on his back, hum of broken lights whirring in the sign underneath him. He stares deep into the sky with tear-soaked eyes, noting how stunning, how _beautiful_ the stars were outside of the city. He studies constellations he knows, looks for the ones he does not. He wishes, the entire time, that Noctis was there. _I bet you know more about this stuff than I do,_ he considers with a half smile through another broken sob. “I wonder how you are,” his words are so quiet even he can't hear them, but he feels as though talking to the stars helps. “I still see you, but the gods haven't been in there,” referring to his dreams, “I hope that they left you alone, too. I think you'd hate this place,” he stops to allow a shaking cry into the back of his hand, overwhelmed. “Insomnia suits you better, I think. I'll be back there soon anyway. Goddammit.” he thinks of the smile that would light up a room, rare but beautiful and sincere, “oh, sweetheart. I didn't think it would be so difficult to let go.” 

He cries, ragged, letting the cold steel of the sign caress him as a loose howl rips from his throat. The emotions that had been so caged, so carefully kept away take over, and he cannot see anything but a beautiful dream:

There he is, hair black as night, skin so starkly pale in contrast, chest broken by that ragged reminder. But his eyes are captured pools of the night sky, shining as he looks at the glaive. Shining as he kisses him, gentle always at first, growing into a much stronger want. The skies are grey but that's what he liked, a silver echoing through breaks in the clouds every once in a while. He was always cold, not that the glaive minded much, as it just gave him more reason to hold him as close as possible. The lightness of his heart managed an echo now, his cries tiding into what sounds like laughter. It's slow, it's hollow of its joy, but so full of memory.  

“Y'all gunna be alright up there?” he hears suddenly, breaking him so sharply from his thoughts that he almost falls from the sign.  

“Oh,” he looks down to find the silhouette of a woman, standing tall as she gazes up, round face highlighted by strokes of neon red and faint tinges of daemon-warding blue.  

“Hey there,” she calls. A strange twang decorates her voice, and Nyx finds himself rather fond of it.  

“H-hey,” his voice is rough, tired, and muffled from the pain he had suffered.  

“You're one of them Kingsglaive soldiers, right?”  

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, a bit louder.  

“Oh - Cindy’ll do just fine, thanks. Heard some of y'all were in the area for some daemon huntin’ stuff.”  

“Something like that.” he collects his energy, wanting to warp down so he could speak properly but feeling exhausted after the sobs broke from his chest.  

“Hmm. Kinda neat. How'd you like it here?” 

He's confused, but tries an answer. “It's too damn hot outside,” 

A charming laugh, light but sharp. “That's fer sure, huh,” 

Quiet for a moment.  

“You got a name?” 

“Nyx is fine.” 

Silence again. He can hear a low hum from Cindy, who isn't afraid to speak again.  

“Are you alright up there, Nyx?” 

“No.” _She heard me._

“What's botherin’ ya?”

He thinks for a moment, trying to piece things together. “It's weird,” he starts, seeing no point in trying to hide it.

“Well, I'm all ears. You want me to climb up there so we can chat or do ya have a way of gettin’ down?” she's sarcastic and he laughs a bit at her tone, takes another minute before he warps to a point in the concrete next to her.  

She stands to face him, taller than he'd thought, bright golden curls of hair and button nose highlighted by the daemon lights above them. A slim leather jacket covers her arms, low cut jeans exposing midriff in the night air. She yawns, leading the way to a small patio set placed out near a closed garage.  

“Nice to actually meet ya,” to which Nyx nods.  

“You're Cid’s granddaughter, right?” 

She laughs strange again. “That's me alright. Hard to believe you've heard of me back in the big city.” 

“I've been through Leide before,” he offers. Talking about something else for once makes him feel lighter.  

But she circles back. “So what was it what was botherin’ you?” 

Nyx rests back on the chair, looking into the stars as he speaks. He cannot look at anything else as he admits it, “I'm in love with the Prince of Lucis.” 

Cindy doesn't answer right away. Her green eyes are lit by the same stars, thoughts suddenly full. “Wow,” she says finally. “That sure is somethin’.” 

Nyx smirks. “It's complicated.”

“Of course,” 

“I think he felt the same way. But…I just..thought things would never be alright - that it would be impossible.” 

“Could be right,”  

Nyx explained how he had started training him, how Noct nearly killed himself, how slowly, they grew closer until he couldn't breathe. He spared details of his ocean-blue eyes, including instead how he felt when he had held him the first time, _like the world was ours,_ his heart full, his thoughts blank. How weeks had passed by without him being able to see the face, the smile that made his heart stop completely.  

He tears up again. “And then I left him there. I told him…that _I love him,_ and just left him there.” three words in Galahdian, the rest cracked by straining sadness.  

Cindy seems to understand what he means. “That is some rough stuff,” she says after a moment. “No way to make it work, huh? Like would you _really_ lose everythin’? He is the Prince afterall, he's oughta have some kinda say in things.” 

“I'll never know now,” 

“Aw, you can't be like that,” her voice is so hopeful.  

But Nyx only sighs. He feels pathetic, appreciates the dark for hiding his swollen, tired eyes.

Cindy starts again. “It's been what, a few weeks since this happened you said?”

He nods.  

“Sure is a tough one to get over, huh?” 

_Get over?_ “I'm not sure it's even possible.”  

“Then maybe the gods are tryin’ to tell y'all somethin’ afterall,” she shrugs. Nyx wanted her to be right.  

He hears footsteps behind them. They're light, hardly audible if not for the decorative steel that reflected broken sign lights. Crowe.

“There you are. We're leaving soon, just thought I woul- o-oh, uh,” she freezes upon seeing Cindy. She's still in her hood, not visible to the mechanic.  

“Hi there,” Cindy greets in her drawl.  

“H-h uhh hi,” Crowe would be thankful that Cindy could not see her.  

“You another of them Kingsglaive, huh? Quite a neat getup you got there,” she nods toward her garments.  

Crowe nods in return, sharp and uneven. A nervous laugh follows. “Y-yeah I guess so, hey? T-thanks,”

Nyx feels embarrassed for her, turning to face Cindy as he stands. “I guess this is goodbye for now. Thanks for listening to all…that,” he offers her a hand.  

She takes it to pull herself out of the chair, but pulls him in for a hug, much to his surprise. In a voice small enough for only him to hear, “don't give up on yer Prince.” He holds it together as best as he can, only nodding in response. 

“You come visit next time you're in the area,” she starts, hand on her hip as she speaks. She waves to the two glaives as they depart toward a quieter haven, firelight warming a welcome to the both of them. There were no other glaives in sight.  

“Where did-?” Nyx starts.

“Oh - still at Takka’s, or in the caravan near Hammerhead. Thought you might need some space.” her voice is nigh unrecognizable with flat emotion.  

“Okay,” he agrees. They reach a rocky flat cut out from a larger hill, protective runes etched into stone and glowing with power straight from the core of Eos itself. He lies next to the warmth of the fire, allowing himself to study the stars again. Crowe sits across, legs folded under her. She finally takes off her hood, face flustered beneath.  

Nyx smirks. “Why so nervous around the mechanic?” he knows why, but likes to annoy her all the same.  

“Shut up,” Crowe smiles somewhat awkwardly, pained expression in her eyes. “God, I couldn’t have sounded _more_ stupid,” she rests her head in her hands, elbows rested on her knees.  

Nyx laughs dryly. He wants to tell her that _come on, you guys would be a good match,_ or that the mechanic was _too easy_ to talk to as cause for her friendliness, but he had no energy. Tears fell across his face, but it almost seemed second nature at this point.

Crowe watched him. “I’m sorry about what happened,” Nyx looks at her, a confused expression on his face.  

She continues. “Everything - Noctis, Libertus - _that jerk_ \- everything.”  

He waves a hand to passively ignore the statement. “I can deal with him,” he says in a broken voice.  

“But they know,”

“Rumors, maybe. He can say whatever shit he wants.”

Crowe is silent for a moment, then: “Nyx...I didn’t know you could care about anything _so_ much as you care about him. And you’re clearly not getting over this any time soon.” 

“What of it?” he’s tired, he wants to sleep, he wants to see him in a beautiful dream. 

“Nyx, you can’t just let him go.” 

He shakes his head and blinks away heavy tears, the grey of his eyes brightened by a tired, reddened background. “No, I can’t,” he admits through shallow breaths. “I’ve never felt like this in my life. What have I done to Them to feel this way? Why couldn’t his gods have killed me instead?” 

Crowe doesn’t know what to say. She lies next to the fire, across from Nyx, hand lazily brushing the flames that sat between them. “You need to go back to him.” she says slowly.  

“He’s probably over me by now,” he feels pathetic, he feels like a child. _But nothing has ever felt this way before._  

He hears Crowe smirk. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I don’t think the gods would let him let go of you so easily, either.” 

The thought makes him smile, but his heart is cracked wide with deep sadness as he laments his choices. _I could take you out here,_ he thinks to himself. _You could tell me what that constellation is up there - who knows, maybe you can’t, but you could try,_ the tears do not end. 

“What do you think that one is, up there?” he asks Crowe suddenly, pointing a large, gloved hand to the sky.  

“Come on, you know I don’t know this, and you’ve asked me before,” she snaps in return. They’re both quiet, so she makes something up. An awkward triangle of stars, enclosing many within them, she says, was a kingdom lost a million “or so” years ago. Maybe it was destroyed by some huge thing, maybe not - maybe it just disappeared. But it’s up there, she tells the glaive, it’s up there where we won’t forget about it, she guesses. Another theory she had of the sparkling image was that it was a monster, something people were so terrified of no one could look it in its “several” eyes. Nyx offered a sleepy laugh, “several, huh,” he’d say. “That must be what the littler stars are for.” 

Crowe laughed, glancing over at him across the fire. Her heart broke in a way she didn’t know it could, never having seen her friend so distraught in her life. She wishes there was something she could do, wishes upon the stars as she continues making up stories about them. She continues talking long after the glaive has fallen asleep, finding tears in her own eyes.

 

\-----

 

The night offers a shelter within the too-large apartment that gives a sense of comfort the day cannot equal. Street lights and city life breathe themselves into the room, tints of orange and low green wading through closed blinds and bleeding lines of pale light into a room lit only by a small lamp near the bed.  

Noct sits up lazily, a worn book in his hands. A sleeping dog rests at his side, a faithful messenger. It is late, but hearing from her was always more important. He flips through weathered pages, smiling at old conversations, at how he had told her of his accident, told her of the glaive, and she responded only with care. It had been some time since he had heard from her last, waiting always in the back of his mind. He flipped to the most recent pages, laughing inwardly at the array of stickers she’s always decorate her letters with; shiny little moogles with button eyes and fluffy chocobos always littered the pages. _They are just too cute, and I thought you’d appreciate them too,_ she’d always say in defense. He laughed, the idea of her hoarding pages of stickers back in Tenebrae always managed to make him smile. _Where does she even find them?_  

He adjusts himself on the bed, Umbra unmoving beside him. He begins to read, one hand running through the dog’s fur, the other absentmindedly feeling the raised edges of a metallic chocobo chick stuck to a corner on the page.

 

_Dearest Noctis,_

 

_It’s lovely to hear more of the glaive. I am glad he has been nothing but kind towards you. Like many others, I’m sure, I do worry about what will come of this situation - it does seem rather difficult, doesn’t it? I’m so sorry. I wish the best for you, as do many - but I wish the best for your heart. Do not let it bleed endlessly for no good reason. Whatever you decide to do, I am sure your heart will be your guide._

_There’s something I wanted to mention - the gods have been...rather strange to me lately. I don’t know whether something has happened because they simply do not say. Even Gentiana is quiet, I mean she is usually - but even more so. It’s like they are bothered by something. You wouldn’t know of anything, would you?_

_The flowers of Tenebrae are slowly fading this time of year. I do love the autumn, there are so many trees here that change with the sun - but I will miss those blossoms until spring._

_I hope your training is going well. You know, sometimes I am jealous - it sounds very cool to be able to fly through the air as if you were a bird. Perhaps one day the glaive could show me, too? Ha ha._ (she draws a lopsided smiley face before she writes more.) _I don’t think that would work. It could be fun, though. Does he warp with other weapons? Do you think I could use my trident?_ (A messier ‘:D’ is drawn here. Noctis laughs.)

_Please write back soon. I look forward to the day we meet again._

 

_With love,_

_Luna_

 

At the bottom of the page, she draws a mess of floral sketches, little arrows pointing out their names. Noctis smiles as he feels the messy scrawl of her writing, beautiful but always a bit difficult to read. He writes back, a shaking, dreadful hand at what he had to tell her.

 

_Luna,_

 

_Things have...changed a lot. A few weeks ago, Nyx came over. It was bad. I got really upset. He told me things couldn’t work out between a Prince and a glaive and for some reason I thought he was right. He left since, and I haven’t seen him. I’m really sorry to start a letter like this._

_About the gods...I think they were pissed off at me. But now that Nyx is gone, they’ve been tormenting my head. Every night I see him, there are gods too, circled around him like they’re protecting him. What did I do? It’s like they’re punishing me for doing the right thing…_

_But I don’t think it was. I’ve never felt like this, I hate going to sleep because I know I’ll see him but he’s not really there -- the days are tough - I’ve taken a bit of time off training but I’ve been back with Gladio a few days now. He’s doing okay. I don’t like training with him as much._

_I feel like,_ (a few tears litter the page, to which he swears at.) _I just let him go like that. Now he’s gone. What if he doesn’t care about me anymore? Is it too late to go back? I’m sorry to burden you with all of this. Writing things out - even if it’s a bit broken and doesn’t make much sense - feels a bit better. I can’t say what I want to very much, it’s hard. Not good for me, right? Ha ha._ (a small, scrawly ‘:P’ is drawn here. Three straight lines cross over the little eyes, as if to imitate the spiked fringe of his hair.) _If only I could tell him what I wanted to. I feel like I should, but I don’t know if he cares anymore._

_On a lighter note, Ignis and Prompto are together (I did tell you this before, right?) and I think they’re pretty happy. It makes me smile to see Ignis so weirdly carefree - they came over one morning a few days ago and man, it was almost sickening (but I still love them). It makes me really happy to see how Prompto is just -- I’ve never seen him like that. I’m glad._ (He does not include how broken it makes him feel.) _I hope they like, get married, or something._ (The thought makes him laugh.)

_Hey, answer me more often, will you? I have too much to say at once and it ends up being messy!_ (he ends the line with three little, scribbled hearts. They don’t really look like hearts, but they’re alright.)

 

_Love u,_

_Noct_

(a small ‘:D’ is drawn, three little lines over the eyes again.)

 

He keeps the tears to himself, tying the book closed with a secure ribbon. He does not wake Umbra, not wanting to send the book away so soon, instead cuddling close as he tries to sleep, turning off the small light.  

But sleep does not come easily. He finds himself a new state of grief, inescapable and closing in with brackets of sobs that break from his lungs. He knew he could depend on Luna to talk to, despite her being far away. She was someone he could always depend on for support, but he didn’t want to place the heavy burden of his heart upon her like that. It was a pain he could not describe, a pain he only shared with one other.  

“I miss you,” he says through tears, thinking of the glaive, sleepy, soft, gentle beside him. He thinks of the lights in his eyes, alive with a feeling Noct wasn’t able to recognize until now. “You said it then, didn’t you?” he thinks back to that morning, what had now felt _so long and far away,_ Galahdian words he wanted to know more than anything, feeling suspicious of what they could have meant. “I wonder if you still feel that way,” he speaks to the blankets, to the dark room, to the sleeping dog beside him, undisturbed from broken cries.  

_Beautiful, so beautiful. Sweetheart, little king - oh Noctis - you are so beautiful._ The voice rings through his mind and makes the cries all the more painful, not sure if the words had ever been real, or if it was all some sort of cruel dream. “I miss y-you, so much,” he gasps. He lies on his side, staring at the window shielded by thin blinds. Lights of Insomnia leak in through the cracks, so haunting and wild before him. He wonders where the glaive could be, if he still sat upon stone pillars waiting for him to come back. He wonders if the cracks deep in his heart would ever heal, unable to stop the thoughts of the feeling of being locked in the glaive’s arms, gentle kisses along his neck and his chest as it’s heaving with sobbing breaths.  

Sleep takes the Prince eventually, a fitful, broken restless stupor in which he lies, trapped with a broken heart. He is nestled within Insomnia, not knowing how far away the glaive really was.

 

\-----

 

_“Not again.”_

 

_“Baby - come here -” outstretched arms, a crooked smile._

 

_So he takes a step forward. A crash interrupts, a clashing of cymbals in the air, startling the breath from his lungs._

 

_(No. You do not get to have him.)_

 

_He looks into the eyes of a blue void, surrounding and still and dangerous._

 

_“First you wanted to kill him - now he’s gone, what more do you want?”_

 

_(He - is not gone.)_

 

_“You told me I don’t deserve love! You told me - you -”_

 

_(You are not meant to love.)_

 

_“I hate you.”_

 

_(_____)_

 

_“If I can’t go back to him, let me let go of him! I can’t survive this - this hurts too much.” He cannot see the circle of gods anymore. He falls to his knees within the void. Nyx still watches behind a swirl of blue. Red neon lights, some broken, flash around him and flash within his eyes._

 

_“I love you-” it’s Galahdian, and he understands it. Blank eyes widen._

 

_“Stop - stop! Stop!” he’s crying for a past he can no longer have. “Please - just shut up!”_

 

_He does not know the dream is a blessing and a curse, he punches the ground with a shaking fist. “I just want to let you go - and I can’t-” and he only sees steel grey eyes, somber and sad, still alight but fading._

 

_“Don’t let go of yer Prince-” a voice he does not recognize. Who are you?_

 

_“I don’t want to-”_

 

_(He is not - coming back.)_

 

_He hears a scream, unsure of if it’s his own or something else; it’s brutally shrill, cutting into him like a searing knife, drowning out everything including his sight. There is an endless blue enveloping him, deep ocean tides that are so cold he cannot breathe. He is swept away from the glaive, he reaches out to arms that reach out to him._

 

_“Little king - take my hand -”_

 

_“Ny-x-  - I can’t--” he’s flailing in deep waves, he cannot swim and he cannot breathe. Submerged within the tides, he sleeps._

 

_I just wanted...to be with you._

 

_\-----_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Alright, well, at least they're talking....
> 
> \- also im sorry for making Libertus so harsh OTL i promise it'll payoff later
> 
> \- brace yourselves for next ch (:
> 
> \- thanks again for sticking with me!


	13. Day 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Noct tries training with Gladio again, but it doesn't go as planned. The night is cold and dark and a little bit sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....HERE WE GO.
> 
> **important note: whenever Nyx's dialogue is in italics he's speaking Galahdian

“You can do better than that!”

The Citadel’s training ground was surrounded by slow falling leaves, a swift autumn carrying naught but a slower breeze. Noct regained his balance before falling to the grass, large greatsword ringing in his hands after another clash with the Shield. Training had become heavier, difficult, he thinks to himself as he swings again, not the fluidity he had become so used to.  _ Don't think about it _ , he tried, a prompt which only reminded him more of the musicality of the dagger strikes, the dance-like nature of the warp, how  _ good  _ and how free it felt simply to move. Here he was not carried by the air, rather feeling chained to the ground as if he were a hundred times heavier. 

He grimaces from his spot on the ground, grass damp and decaying beneath him. He glances up at Gladio, eyes shrouded in anger. 

“What’s wrong with you lately? Get with it!” he hears, rough but not angry, only concerned.

Noctis stands. He readies another swing, but stops, looking at the greatsword in his hands. He’s trying, trying to forget and trying to move on, but everything seems so still and so small. 

“I  _ can’t! _ ” he sends the sword flying into shimmering blue dust before it hits the ground. Gladio takes a second to react, only watching Noct as he stumbles onto the ground again with a ragged sigh. 

He sits near him on the grass. “Something’s going on, Noct, what is it?” his tone is deep, his words measured. “I know you didn’t come back to training because you ‘had enough’ with the glaives.  _ No  _ one gets tired of their training,” he says with a half-laugh. 

Figures there’s nothing left to lose, Noct opens up. “It’s Nyx,” he tries to begin. 

Gladio raises an eyebrow, hesitant to ask in case Noctis said more. When he didn’t, he prompted, “what about him?”

_ Where do I start?  _ “Uh,” he can feel his face redden. “Just - we kinda, got close? And….”

The Shield’s eyes flare suddenly. “Did he hurt you!?” 

Noctis is taken aback at the thought. “No! No - Gladio, no - it wasn’t like that,” he assured, eyes bright. 

Gladio’s expression shifts from deep concern to deeper thought; his eyes light up suddenly, “so  _ that’s  _ what that was for.”

Noctis is confused. “What _what_ was for?”

“Hm. A few weeks, shit, almost a month ago now -” he looks to the lofty clouds for confirmation, “I heard from Crowe. She’s in the Kingsglaive too, you might know her-”

“Yeah, she’s really nice,” Noct mentions. 

Gladio laughs. “Don’t tell her that,” he replies with a smirk. “Anyway, we’ve known each other for a long time. I’ve trained with a few of the ‘glaive before, you know. Not just princes,” Noct doesn’t react to the jest. The Shield continues. “She texted me out of the blue a while ago. ‘What’s the Prince’s address? Might need it for ‘glaive training stuff. Y’know, like, paperwork and whatever?’ it sounded pretty weird and I was hesitant, but I can trust her not to send killers to your door.” he laughs, again in jest, “or can I?”

_ So that’s how Nyx found my place.  _ “I’m sorry,” he tries. Gladio shakes it off with a wave of his hand. 

“So what happened?” he asks after a moment. He doesn’t look at Noct, never able to look someone in the eye in types of situations like these. Noct preferred it. 

He starts at the beginning. How he hated Nyx, figuring the glaive hated him just as much, annoyed at how  _ difficult  _ and how  _ much  _ he expected Noct to know but how allowing he was at the same time. They took everything slow, until it went too quickly. He told Gladio of the accident, which he knew most about already, but included this time how Nyx caught him mid air, how he could feel the speed of his heart as they warped to the ground, which he had told no one else. " It was like he was gonna have a heart attack or something,"  he said with a small smile, fondly remembering how  _ close _ and how  _ gently  _ they hit the ground, cradled with the glaive in a bloody embrace but loving all the same. He admits that Gladio was correct in how Nyx found his apartment soon after, wanting to tell him he was sorry but Noct angry at him for feeling guilty, Nyx  _ kissing him  _ like it was the only thing he knew how to do, Noct wanting him to stay. Everything piled together, spilled out of his head like a swift train of memories; it hurt like hell to relive every beautiful memory, hurt worse knowing there wouldn’t be more. 

“I loved training,” he continues, an apologetic look toward Gladio as the Shield gives an incredulous stare. He explains how he was terrified of warping, especially after what had happened to him, but how comfortable Nyx made it seem. He described to Gladio the blue void without much success, but it held his interest all the same, silently hoping Noct would try to explain more. But he continued, telling him - but sparing details - that he had spent a night with the glaive. At this time, he no longer tries keeping the tears to himself, ignoring the ones that escape his eyes. His tone darkens, becomes weak. “Then this,” he gestures around him. He cannot continue. 

“I kinda figured it had been something like that,” Gladio’s tone is calm, lamenting the Prince’s story with pain in his eyes.

“I mean, in all that, there wasn’t a lot going on. Didn’t really take off,” he replies, not telling him of the cold and how distant the glaive had seemed. 

“Hm?”

“He...I...we -? thought it would be too dangerous for us to continue, I guess?”

“That’s true enough.” Gladio doesn’t elaborate. 

Noct is quiet for a moment. “Are you mad?” he hesitates to ask. 

“Why would I be? People can’t help shit like this sometimes. In the end, you either go for it or you don’t. It’s touchy, since you’re both fighters, there’s always a chance of losing one another.”

“Oh, that’s not -”  _ Oh my god, I didn’t even think about this.  _ “We just thought it would be too dangerous and difficult for a glaive to be seen with-”

An interruption of laughter. “What? You?” Gladio wears no expression of concern. “Figured that’d be the least of your problems.”

_ What does he mean by that?  _ Noct doesn’t ask. He tears up again. “I feel like I’ve made a mistake.”  _ I want to see him. I  _ want  _ him.  _

“Does he feel the same?” the Shield is thoughtful. 

_ I don’t know.  _ “I don’t know.”

Gladio looks at him with wild, large eyes. “What’re you still doing here, then?”

Noctis answers with a look of surprise. It seems odd to him that Gladio would be so encouraging, figuring something of his situation may have hit close to home with the Shield. Noct feels a fire in his heart, knowing he could trust no one else to know more about feeling like this than Gladio could. 

But doubt still clung to his thoughts with clawing hands, talon-like and scratching at every nice idea, every beautiful memory. The sun hid itself behind shifts of grey clouds, a settling autumn afternoon that whispered sweet warmth into an echo of dying light. Gladio was silent, thoughtful as he watched the sky; Noctis drowning in thoughts that threatened to take him under, a deep ocean of what the past has become. He asks the sky for answers, asks the sky for anything -  _ I don’t know what to do - I’m not sure if anything is right. _ A deep sigh is the only gentle calm that settles within his lungs, only certain of one thing. 

 

\-----

 

_ Whatever you decide to do, I am sure your heart will be your guide.  _

 

\-----

 

The moon is nearly full when midnight approaches, a still, emotionless state that leaves the glaive too exhausted to sleep as he lies staring out the window of his small apartment. Nothing moves, nothing makes a sound - the loudest thing he had heard for what seemed like days was the shallow sound of his own breathing. Three weeks to the date - and he had not felt any better. It felt like years took a toll on him, growing more and more tired by the minute, a continuation of tears despite feeling spent long ago. 

The entirety of his apartment is dark, lit only by a small lamp near the bed. It is warmer than he feels, orange light casting highlights on his skin and the small surrounding area. Occasional clouds cast themselves around the moon, thickening into a threat of rain but weak to reflective light of the sky. Everything felt so clear, so calm, but at the same time so entirely suffocating to the glaive; no matter how beautiful the stars, how clear the moon, Nyx felt a fog hang over his head that had not left for weeks. It may have been months, years, he no longer knew - only became lost in endless thoughts and would-be memories as he finally began to drift off.

He was startled by a rapid knock at his door, a numbing sound that continued as he hastily half-dresses, a loose pair of sweatpants - not bothering with a shirt. He tumbles to the threshold, slow and uncoordinated, annoyed at whatever was outside. 

He unlocks the door, almost slamming it closed in shock at what he sees. Face hidden by night, uneven strands of messy black hair highlighted by moonlight, Noctis is  _ here _ , seeming too small in a hooded sweatshirt three or four sizes too big for him. He stands with his usual slouch, he pants like he’s out of breath, holding his hands to his chest. Tears are streaming down his face. Nyx, for the first time in what seems like forever, feels his heart halt completely.

“What’re you-”

“Are you busy?” a small, broken voice, a voice he missed  _ so, so much.  _

“No-?” he’s in a daze, he’s in a dream.  _ This isn’t real.  _

But he can’t stop the Prince as he starts talking in a flurry, a jumble of words spilling broken from his throat. “I can’t do this Nyx, I, I’m,” he starts between gasps,  _ did he run all the way here?  _ “I don’t care how difficult or how, dammit, dangerous this is, staying away from you and pretending like nothing matters is a million times harder. When you left that day I, I just,” he stops again, “I collapsed on the floor and I can’t remember if I moved for two days after because I think I felt like I had just given up on everything that mattered to me -” he blinks hard, letting more tears loose. He looks at Nyx and keeps going, “I thought I hated you - and I wanted to hate you but I can’t - you made me forget what other people said about me and you - I felt fucking  _ normal  _ for once - not just a Prince, not a ‘Highness’, whatever the  _ fuck  _ that is,” he spits out. “You called me Noctis,  _ Noctis _ , you made me like my own  _ name, _ ” he sobs. “You showed me how  _ fun _ training can be - sure you made fun of me but never to the point where I feel totally useless and like I can’t do it and having to give that up was almost as bad as not being able to see you again and-”

“Noctis-”

“No listen -” his words tripping over each other as if to mimic the lines of tears from his eyes, “I don’t know if you care anymore, I don’t know if you hate me - you should, you should have from day one - but when you kissed me for the first time, I thought and I felt like I belonged somewhere, which was with you - and then we spent that one night together and I figured if I could manage to feel that  _ incredible  _ then goddammit I must have done  _ something right _ ,” he chokes out, continuing still, “but then I, I just-? All I wanted was to be with you and  _ I made you leave me. _ ” he sobs fully, shaking to the point where his knees are giving out. 

Nyx is so stunned he almost doesn’t catch Noct as he tumbles, overcome with heavy sobs that filter into the glaive’s chest.  _ He is always warm.  _ All Nyx can manage are hushed breaths, never thinking he’d be lucky enough to be near the Prince again. 

“Noctis, shh - shh, I’m here, I’m-” but his voice is broken, too. Slow tears fall into messy, midnight black hair as he holds him close, mind blank and forgetting every misery that had grown so close for so long. 

Noct is crumpled against him, feeling guilty for intruding on him, but feeling like he belonged  _ nowhere _ else. He pulls away to look up at Nyx, his eyes are filled with tears, not knowing if he had seen him so vulnerable nor beautiful before. “N-n,” he tries, his voice shot, his energy gone entirely. He rests back against the glaive, unable to find the strength to move at all. 

Nyx knows not what to say, wanting to tell Noctis  _ everything _ but able to find no words. He’s holding back more tears, heart  _ hurting _ like it never had before; it takes everything he has to lift Noct from his heavy lean on him, closing the door with a kick as he carries the Prince inside. 

The apartment is still, Noct not reacting to being carried around, exhausted from finding his way back to the glaive. Nyx takes them to a small couch close to the door. He sits, the Prince still in his arms; he rests his head against the glaive’s chest, eyelids heavy. Nyx cannot stop himself from kissing into his hair, breathing him in, wanting, dreading to know this was all a dream. He cradles Noctis in his lap, longing to tell him  _ everything _ he needed to. 

“I’m so sorry,” he hears whispered against his chest. The voice is small, it’s broken, and he’s missed it every second it was gone. 

“Shh, little king,” his heart sings with the words, like being rebirthed from cruel ashes. “Everything’s alright.” And for the first time in a long time, he truly felt that it was. 

Noctis looks up at him, eyes reddened, the blue within them seeming to glow. “Is it?” he says weakly. 

“Oh, Noctis,” he sighs, pulling him close again. “Sweetheart. I’m never letting you go again.”

He hears a cracked sob escape the Prince's throat, his own chest feeling tight. “What about...everything else?”

“You were right,” he manages. “Nothing will ever be as difficult as being without you. I went to Leide. No matter how far I was from you I couldn’t get away - I watched the stars and wondered if you knew them. In my dreams I saw your beautiful face, so close, and I didn’t want to wake up. I knew, I swore I’d given up the entire world when I walked away. I, I’m,” he breaks down, slowly, losing focus and losing vision as tears well in his steel grey eyes. He wants to tell him words he could only say in a language Noct couldn't understand. “I'm so sorry for leaving you. I, I'm, I don't deserve to hold you again.” He takes a moment to recover, waiting to see if the Prince would answer. He loosened his hold, realizing he might be making him uncomfortable. Noct simply raised a hand to his face, trying to wipe steady tears away. Nyx took the hand in his own,  _ so cold.  _

They're silent for a moment. Noctis recollects his breath, collects his thoughts. “I can't believe I managed to find your place,” he says reflectively. 

“Y’know…they do have cars in the city?” Nyx teases in a raw voice. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Noctis smiles. It feels too good. 

Nyx can feel his heart escalate, eyes shining at the look of  _ that smile.  _

“Noctis…” he feels awkward, suddenly. But it doesn't feel wrong - it never had. 

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Noct laughs a little, freeing his hand from the glaive’s to put it around his neck, pulling him down slightly. Their noses touch, lips brushing against his as he teases in a cracked, recovering whisper, “of course you can.” 

The glaive doesn't hesitate, a long, slow kiss that brings them together after weeks apart. He can feel that small whine from the Prince's throat, the hand that slips from the back of his neck to his collarbone, fingers hooked into his skin as if to never let go. Nyx's thoughts run at full speed,  _ how did this happen, this has to be a dream, he can't actually be here, I don't deserve this- _ he breaks the kiss with a ragged sob, a smile that he has not felt across his face in  _ so long _ . 

“What is it?” Noct's eyes read concern, read want. 

“I'm thanking every one of your Gods that you're here tonight,” he half-laughs, knowing how odd it sounds. 

Noct laughs with him despite the weight. He laughs as more tears spring from each other's eyes, laughs musical that lifts together pieces of the glaive’s heart. 

There rests a shared joy, a newfound love; they are confused, sleep deprived, both assuming they lie in a dream together, because that's all there ever was. But neither glaive nor Prince could see the deep blue of a swirling void, nor could they hear the rolling thunder of a horrible voice. It was two, only two, sharing a moment so beloved, so quiet, so finally still. 

A sleep soon finds them both, Noct exhausted, Nyx not realizing how tired he had been himself. He holds the Prince close, one arm cradled around his back, the other on his chest. He didn't have time to ask if he was comfortable, he didn't have time to ask if he wanted the bed, instead. Together they drifted off, dreams shared between them but belonging to neither as finally, they rested in each other's arms again. 

 

\-----

 

He wakes in a place only sort of familiar to him, time dragging itself slow through the midst of the night. The small, cozy apartment is lit only by a small lamp near the side of the bed, as well as streaks of near-full moonlight carrying itself through the window, bleeding onto bedsheets. 

Noct feels the glaive asleep beside him, slow, measured breathing the most peaceful thing he's ever heard. He comes to his senses slowly, feeling  _ too warm  _ in his clothes despite the cold outside, recognizing that he still lie cradled, half sitting in the glaive’s lap. He is sleepy, but his thoughts are wildfire, consuming every rationality he has. A new want filled him, a relentless ache, a longing he needed to settle like no other.

He moves slowly, trying to shift his position on the glaive without waking him. He straddles the lap beneath him, knees on either side of Nyx's hips, sighing as he nestles his face into his neck, rough and  _ warm.  _ His hands run slow along the glaive’s chest, careful not to disturb him but wanting nothing more at the same time. He feels Nyx answer with strong arms that fold around his back, pulling him closer - if it were possible. 

“Nyx,” Noctis breathes. This was it. 

“Mmm,” even partially asleep, he lives off of the sound of the Prince saying his name. 

“Nyx, I want you,” messy kisses follow along his jawline as he says it. 

Something he had not expected to hear. “Mmn- what?” more awake than before. 

“I want you.” more firm than before. 

Nyx answers with a soft laugh, head resting against the back of the couch. His voice is a drawl, sleepy and sad, “this isn't real.”

Noct responds with biting kisses at his neck, following a thin line of ink that begins at his collarbone, leading to his ear. 

Nyx moans, words jumbled as he speaks. “this isn't real,” he starts again, “you're not really here...mm I don't deserve you - I let you go…I'm not good enough for you….”

The confession shocks the Prince, the heavy sadness in his words breaking his heart all over again at the glaive’s vulnerability.  _ Not good enough for me? No - no, you are a thousand times better.  _

“Nyx,” he sighs, kissing still at warm skin, taking the glaive’s hands from behind him, placing one at his hip, the other underneath and up his shirt. “Touch me,” he orders, somewhat anxious. 

He can feel the raw scar line, smooth but jagged, the Prince's skin so cold beneath his hand. He stares at a dark ceiling that offers no answers, gripping into skin when he feels Noct grind down on him suddenly. Both of his hands work around to his back again, lifting at the clothes covering his chest. Noct complies, pausing from the bitten skin to undress, Nyx in a state of worship as he watches him in the dark. 

Noct catches his stare. “What?” he says with a sheepish grin. 

“ _ Beautiful, I'll take you right here,” _ he says in words the Prince so dearly missed, understood only in his dreams. 

Noct answers with a bruising kiss, messy and deep as he swallows moans and captured breath, memorizes the feeling of hands caged around his back and hips that try to grind back into his own. 

“Say something else,” he demands. He’s biting and sucking at the glaive’s neck, wanting nothing but to leave his mark.

“ _ I think I've wanted you since day one - you are a dream, dear light, _ ” he says adoringly, alive from a kissed moan into his skin. 

“More,” Noct growls. 

Nys laughs low, a satisfied hum in his chest. “little king,” he starts, groan ripping from his throat as Noctis grinds hard into him again, hips rolling slow and methodical, unable to stop. 

“Take me,” he pleads, staring down at the glaive as he continues his slow thrust. 

It's all he needs. With some difficulty, Nyx stands still holding him, nerves tensing as Noctis wraps his legs around his waist. The glaive is fully awake, aware as he slams the Prince against the wall, kissing violently before Noct has a chance to recover his breath. Arms embrace him, he feels like this dream is  _ too real _ as he's kissing the Prince hard, relentless, messy against a wall that had only previously been a companion for his sorrow. 

Nyx pauses to pull away, noting how the Prince looks in the lamplight; his face is flushed, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He does not miss the glimmer of worry he catches in the ocean-blue eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Nyx asks, his voice a well of calm.

A quick nod. “Yes-” a hesitant glance toward the bed. “I’m just - kinda new at this, okay?”

Nyx looks him dead in the eyes. “You let me know immediately if anything makes you uncomfortable, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” a half smile crossing his lips.

“Noctis, I’m serious.”

The Prince laughs, hand caressing the glaive’s cheek. “I know,” he assures. He smiles at the glaive with confidence, masking his nervousness. 

Nyx kisses him slow, moving from the wall to the bed, not breaking a gentle rhythm of loving touches, the glaive gentler still as he lie above the Prince, pinning him to the mattress, soft kisses continuing through soft moans before Nyx pulls apart. Noct looks away when the glaive finishes undressing him, unable to quell his anxiety but  _ never  _ wanting to stop.  _ Relax, just- _

“Relax, sweetheart. We take it slow,” his voice so measured, so calm. 

Noct nods, his eyes shut tight. He whines at the kisses he feels along the inside of his thigh, light and processional as the glaive works his way to his hip. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he says between kisses, studying the Prince in full, amused at his embarrassment. He comes up to meet him face to face, kissing at his neck, arms planked on either side of him. 

“Tell me what you want me to do,” a slow demand from the glaive as he growls into pale skin, receiving only a pleasured groan in response. 

“Noctis-”

“Fuck me,” he pleads. His hands have trailed to the waistband of Nyx's pants, tugging at them lightly as if to order him. 

“ _ Yes, my little king.”  _ his voice still calm despite his heart racing, moving off of Noct for a moment, causing a shiver to run through him. 

Noct doesn't look at him as he undresses despite wanting to, ignores him when he fetches something from the bedside table. He returns shortly, noting the Prince's shyness. Noct shivers again when he feels Nyx place himself between his legs, a small whine in his throat. 

“Baby, look at me,” Nyx's voice so warm, “I want to see you,” Noct can hear the smile in his voice. 

He feels a wave of anxiety crash in his lungs but does as he's told, looking up at his glaive and damning himself for not looking sooner. “Mmn,” he sighs. “Nyx,” he wants to tell him how  _ beautiful  _ he is, how  _ much  _ he wants him.  _ No, I  _ need  _ him.  _ “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he manages in a weak drawl.

_ “If only you could see how stunning you are,” _ Nyx praises in return, kissing at the Prince's chest, along the scar, along his neck, along his jawline-

“Nyx, mmn fuck, please,” he's becoming impatient as the glaive sucks bruising marks onto his skin, unable to move beneath his weight. 

“Hmm,” Nyx hums satisfied, “you can't wait for me any longer?”

_ I've waited long enough.  _ “N-no,” he confesses. He feels a smile into his neck. 

“Do you want me, baby?” he teases. He continues venturing along the pale expanse of skin beneath him, living off of every reaction from the Prince as he kissed into the hollow of his hips, along his ribcage, along his thigh again. 

“Y-yes, goddammit,”  _ and you know that and you know this is torture- _ his thoughts halt as he watches Nyx kiss along the inside of his thigh, his body lifted slightly from the mattress-

“Nyx.”

He looks up, eyes shining like glittering steel. “Yes?”

“Slow, right?” he is still worried. 

“Yes - try to relax, little king, I'm right here. If you need to stop please tell me, okay?”

_ You're right here.  _ He nods, pulling the glaive down into a gentle kiss, becoming messier and full of want as if an electric current ran through them both. 

Noct is gasping as he feels Nyx start to work him open, forcing himself to relax, to even his breaths as the glaive is kissing his neck, stifled moans meeting pale skin, Nyx's free hand combing through strands of black hair that splay out on the pillow above his head. Noct feels fire in his veins, finding his nervousness had vanished along with fear, feeling no safer place to be than in the arms of his glaive. 

“You're doing so well, sweetheart,” Nyx hums, kissing near his ear, making Noct shiver again. The skin around his fingers is tight but allows him in, working him as gently as he can. He is surprised when he feels the Prince thrust himself downward, wanting him deeper. 

“N-nyx,” his arms relax on either side of his head on lamplit bedsheets, he is staring at the glaive. 

He positions himself between the Prince's legs again, lifting him slightly from the bed, “ready?” 

He's looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, his breathing turned rapid, “yes.”

Nyx starts gentle, slow as he can as he watches the Prince, nearly coming on the spot at the sight of the arch in his back, neck stretched as his head falls back, only the whites of his eyes visible. His arms stretch above his head, embracing the bedsheets, hands weakly clutching at folds in the fabric. 

Noctis’ mind is blank, only able to focus on the glaive, watching him with blurred vision.  _ Maybe this is all a dream,  _ he considers, a low moan escaping his throat.  _ It has to be. There's no way - this - hhah - fuck - I'm gunna die - there's no way he -  _

“Talk to me,” he hears through his jumble of thoughts, the glaive at his neck again, breathing kisses into his skin. 

“Mmnfjh,” he tries, a ragged sound ripping from his lungs. 

A low laugh. “ _ Beautiful,  _ are you alright?” 

“Ye-s, N-yx, h-h,” he grips nails into the glaive’s back, “more,” he demands. 

Nyx is hesitant but obeys, a steadier pace suiting them both. The Prince drags his nails through his skin, emitting more pleasure from the glaive than Nyx would like to admit, incomprehensible Galahdian words slipping from his tongue, phrases purely ecstatic.

Noctis thrusts himself down, wanting  _ more  _ and crying out as he does. Nyx tries to pull away, flash of concern over having hurt him, but the Prince ignores him, pulling him closer, deeper, broken moans fleeing from his mouth but muffled by the glaive’s deeper kiss. It is messy, breaking apart with panting breaths and bitten tongues. Noctis becomes louder, audible cries as Nyx thrusts harder into him, pace quickening still. There is fire in their veins, a warm echo of want and will; a Prince with wild eyes, a glaive becoming his god. 

Nyx stares back into deep oceans of blue, lost at sea without a guiding star. There were no gods around them, no stars above; they were the gods, they held the stars. The glaive could not find his way free from a deep well of thought, the Prince's blown apart stare becoming the only thing he knows. 

More Galahdian words rip from his throat as fire escalates, not even sure what they meant himself but they are sharp and broken like bloody knives, tearing into a pale chest beneath him as breaths become short and ragged, interrupting pleasured cries and strengthening the force of oceanic tears. 

“Baby, you sound so good,” the glaive teases. 

He receives a moan, a whine he wanted burned into his brain  _ so badly _ , “Nyx, nn-n,” he forgets every word save a name he longed for since day one, “Nyx-”

“Yes, Noctis,  _ yes, _ ” 

A bleeding heart racing out of his chest, “I - I’m,” he gasps, eyes wide and full of beautiful tears.  _ I'm so - close -  _

Nyx can feel him approach an edge he dreads dearly, “yes,” he leans in close again, and faster than before, Noct crying loud in response, blinking tears from his eyes as he grips into his lover's back, an ache so  _ close  _ and  _ so perfect  _ as he spaces out. 

Nyx kisses along his neck as he works them higher, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper, “yes,” he repeats, “come for me - Noctis,  _ Noctis -” _

Noctis feels the glaive’s name rip from his throat as he reaches a high unknown to him before, spilling hot and slow between burning skin, the glaive tensing as tender Galahdian words come alongside himself, Noct crying out unintelligible sounds as he feels Nyx so warm and full inside him. His breaths are ragged, heavy as he kisses at tears on the Prince's face. Noctis lie shaking beneath him, overwhelmed and fully spent, weak hands clutching at thin braids in the glaive’s hair, pulling slightly. He whimpers into warm skin, holding back a threatening sob. 

Nyx pulls away, kisses his Prince once, long and slow and calm.  _ “Little king,” _ he says, voice full of adoration. He moves slowly from the bed, lamplight following him as he cleans them both off, Noct too tired to hide himself, yearning for the glaive to come back into his arms. 

Nyx does, taking the Prince soft in his embrace as he lies with his back to the moonlight cracking through the window. Noctis curls against him, face hidden in a scarred expanse of skin. 

Both are wordless, longing to say so much. Nyx runs a hand lazily through the Prince's hair, listening to the slow and heavy breaths against his chest, recovering and exhausted. Noct focuses on the softness of the blankets around them, a haven of slow, soft love. 

“Noctis,” Nyx breaks the long silence, worried the Prince had fallen into sleep. 

“Mmn?” a dazed response. 

“Are you alright?” 

Noctis looks up at him, confusion crossing his moonlit eyes. “Of course - Nyx?? You're so…mmm…,” he is unsure how to describe it.  _ Perfect, wonderful, I wish I could stop crying for like five minutes today, goddammit,  _ “this morning I wanted to die,” he says flat out. “And now I'm pretty sure I have-”  _ if there were a heaven - this is it, I'm sure.  _

He feels a kiss at his hair. “Is that bad?” his voice is shaky, uncertain. 

“Maybe - what if this is all a dream? I'll wake without you again, and I'm not sure I can,” he confesses. 

“Dear light, I don't think we're dreaming,” Nyx says with a smile. 

“I'm so glad…I'm so…Nyx…” he looks up at the glaive, eyes dark but shining, “I missed you…so much,” the pace of his breathing breaks as a gentle sob racks his chest. Nyx strengthens his hold around him. 

“No more fear, little king. No more letting you go.”

He's looking for answers in deep steel eyes, longing to say words he's repeated for weeks. “Nyx…I…” 

A warm smile, so impossibly sweet, followed by a warmer voice, “You've got stars in your eyes, little prince.”

His brow knits in confusion. “Wh-?”

Nyx is sleepy, nearly drifting off as he continues. “How many gods live in there? Constellations of stories that have been dead for thousands of years…mm...it's like looking into another world.”

Noctis is puzzled, too exhausted to challenge his words. He nestles his face impossibly close to the glaive, breathing him in as they drift off into a deep void, empty of all its gods. 

A silence broken only by two small truths, a deep darkness enveloping them both into a long autumn night. The outside world creates itself harsh and cold, the inside what seems a dream, so warm, so close, so endless. There are no gods nor force strong enough to break them. Through a dreamlike state, a deafening silence, 

 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

 

They meet again with gentle, assuring sobs and softer kisses that melt long into the night, a horrible nightmare washed away that both want to put at rest. Noctis moves from gentle kisses to kissing away salted tears on warm, rough skin, both laughing with a sense of relief. Nyx has both arms locked around him; nothing,  _ nothing _ will ever separate the glaive and his Prince again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- :3c so i hope all that angst was worth it??
> 
> \- i was so excited to work on this ch especially after your reactions to the last one so let me know if you enjoyed! i love hearing from u guys! <3


	14. Day 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a loving night, it's time to decide what happens next. Or, it would be, if they didn't keep getting distracted. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i'm so sorry for the wait! work has gotten busy and it's been tough putting this chapter together. please excuse me if there are any typos, i've edited as best as i can!
> 
> \- ***again, italics usually indicate Galahdian dialogue!

\----

 

_ Oh lightest heart  _

_ You'll be the one to carry us _

_ Beautiful, beautiful,  _

_ And the stars do not listen  _

 

_ Oh wisest heart  _

_ You'll be the one burying the rest  _

_ We had our fun, our fun,  _

_ No time for joyful slumber - -  _

 

_ \--- _

 

He wakes beneath waves of a deep sleep, so impossibly far away from a reality he no longer recognized.  _ It was all a dream _ , his first reaction at realizing he lie alone. The surrounding sheets were cold, crumpled beneath cold air. He doesn't move. He doesn't open his eyes in fear that he truly lie in this unfamiliar place isolated. 

_ Where am I? Where is  _ he? 

He lazily runs a hand across his hip, remembering he is fully undressed beneath many comfortable layers of bedsheets or blankets, sure of neither but happy to be shielded from the cold outside. His senses come slowly, one by one, calm and nonintrusive. He feels soft worn sheets at his face, messy strands of his hair are scattered across the pillow as he buries further into the blankets, inhaling a scent that moves him to tears. Tendrils of smoke echoed through the fabric, haunts of cinnamon and pine - the glaive,  _ the glaive.  _ He holds his blankets closer, eyes still closed, brow furrowing at the sense of a sound - close but oddly distant. 

It is smooth. The sound is deep, rolling, but soft. It is the familiar voice of the glaive, reverberating in unfamiliar words; Nyx is  _ singing.  _ He listens, frozen, at the way he breathes through the Galahdian words like a woven hymn of magic _.  _ Noct wants to open his eyes, but doesn't want to move too much; he wants to hold his glaive and reach tired arms out to him but doesn't dare disturb the sounds that tighten the pull on his heart. 

He continues listening, only cracking his eyes open slightly. Nyx is standing across the open apartment, half dressed, back turned to the Prince. Noct can smell drafts of fresh coffee as he lifts his nose above the bedsheets to breathe, adoring through sleepy eyes the muscles of the glaive’s back, red scratches of Noct's own doing highlighting lightning shaped scars and thin tattoos decorating his worn skin. Through the swelling memory of the night, recollections of pure love, Noct cannot stop the noise of want - a small whine - escape his throat. He damns himself for catching the glaive’s attention, who halts in his movement. His song stops, leaving the apartment still as he turns to notice the blue eyes that nearly pierce his skin. 

He walks back to the bed in swift steps, sitting at the edge of the mattress. Noct takes notice in silent surprise of red and deep purple bruises that decorate the glaive’s neck, marks he so carelessly and lovingly left on him the night before. He's embarrassed as Nyx smiles, eyes tired but full of adoration as he looks back at his lover. 

“ _ Goodmorning,”  _ he speaks softly as if Noct were still asleep, leaning close to kiss at his forehead. Noct burrows beneath blankets, flustered, hiding his face. The glaive laughs, snaking an arm beneath the covers, pulling the Prince on top of him as he lie down. He receives a sleepy sigh in response,cold arms around him and lazy kisses at his chest. 

“That was beautiful,” Noct says with a cracked voice. 

Nyx’s face flushes lightly, “I didn't expect to have an audience,” he teases. 

Noctis ignores him. “Can you keep going?” 

Nyx is a bit startled by the request but eventually obliges, and in the midst of sudden silence, slow memories of Galahd become part of the air as he sings. Noct rests, tears threatening to rise at the sounds that pull at his heart; he does not need to understand the words to know Nyx has sung this melody many times before. He focuses on his tones, the softness of his words turning sharp at the edges, a picture painted of a home no longer there. His voice is smaller than it had been before, when he moved about the room in the midst of a grey morning. Here he was now, gentler, calmer, a guided fire to the Prince's heart where both could rest easy. Noct is carried to an unknown place, memories of a world he could never know but learned in notes that it had been beautiful, warm, and carefree. The glaive expresses a deep loss soaked in golden memories of a family, a home, a comfort he hadn't felt in years. But he remembered it as if it were yesterday, a gentle haunt in the back of his mind, a walk through a graveyard of sunwashed desert sand and haloes of silver skies. Noct wondered if the memory had ever felt becoming of a prison. 

    In his dreams lived a son, bright eyes not yet muddled with silver grey of a deep forgotten time; he wanders through a hometown, spread out and welcoming of wildlife around its citizens, lazy coeurls guarding homes, playing with children in the streets. So tame, yet wild; the boy runs a lazy hand through braided hair that falls to the center of his back. He looks to the sky with eyes of shining blue as if to reflect heavens. A small mark, almost an arrow, decorates the space beneath his left eye. His laugh is musical, it echoes through the sky like a song close to his watcher’s ear; it shouldn't have been alarming. 

The town is small, close knit but spread wide, room for life to take over. Small fruit trees that the Prince had never seen grow between houses and in backyards, seeming to thrive from the sand below. Long vines, branching out into web like systems grab for stone houses and small, nearby trees. People are lively, they reach out to neighbours with loud voices and open arms, they banter in market corners over produce or even the weather. But the weather is often the same, a soft heat layered with gentle breezes, tanned skintones deepening against warmed sands. The skies are nearly always clear save seasons of pure rain, changing the scenery in ways unimaginable to outsiders’ eyes. 

The streets are covered in dust that never settles, filled with life that never dies out. The son laughs, laughs like it's easy, he runs among the dirt roads and waves to people he knows and people he does not. He is making his way home. Through the daylit air echoes more music in unfamiliar tongues, a community knit through cultural tides that keep them together. 

He is free there. There are no chains across his coat that weigh on his chest, no plumes of fur covering his arm to remind him of a place that felt like love and home. The braids in his hair are loose and messy, strands of chestnut brown splayed across his back as he makes his way through a place he had memorized so easily and would never forget. So many people going about their days beneath a sun not yet extinguished, to some a late morning, a rough night, a regular day. They talk among themselves, beneath strings of glowing lights and clear stars and gathering clouds on the horizon. They rest in soothing sunshine, shadows from trees and long, thin grasses mimicking thin lines of tattoos that scatter themselves across the town. They do not hear the distant gunshots or whirring of corrupted industry. They do not hear it coming at all. 

 

“Noctis,” a soft reminder of a new reality. 

He raises his head, looks at Nyx with half asleep eyes. He is greeted with a crooked smile, a gentle hand brushing against his face. He smiles in return. 

“ _ Sweetheart,  _ you can fall asleep anywhere.” he chuckles at the blush alighting the Prince's face. “What did you dream of, little one?”

“You, I think,” Noct answers as he rests again on the glaive’s chest. “The song you were singing…what was it about?”

He is quiet, answers softly. “Home.” Noctis isn't sure what to say, only kisses at the skin beneath him. 

Nyx smiles, both at his lover and the memories fleeting through his mind. “We used to sing it all the time. It's not really about anything, it's mostly just catchy,” he knows he wouldn't be able to say the truth of the melody. “I'm glad you liked it,” one of the truest things he'd ever say. 

“I'd like to hear it again,” Noct teases. “Maybe I should stay here more often.”

“Oh, little king, you can't tease me like that,” Nyx replies in a voice that melts the Prince's heart. 

“No?” he starts in return, leaning up to kiss him fully. He bites at the glaive’s lip, threatening to take it further but slowing into a gentler embrace as Nyx holds him close. “Why not?” he says with a sleepy whine. 

“I'd never be able to let you go,” Nyx laughs a little, kisses Noct more. He pulls him higher, to which the Prince responds with a small, strained whine at reacting to shifting his weight around.  _ Oh, I'm sore. Fuck.  _

“You alright?”

“Uh,” he blushes, “Yeah? Yeah! I'm fine.”

Nyx wears an amused expression. “Good for training today, then?” he laughs when he receives a muffled groan into his chest as a response. 

“Nnooooooooo,” Noctis feels his face grow hot as he hides it in warmer skin, making the glaive laugh again. 

_ Speaking of,  _ Nyx considers, reaching for his phone as Noctis gets comfortable.  _ [2 msgs: Crowe].  _

 

_ [hey, what's up?]  _

_ [odd. Ur never late 2 training. Where r u?]  _

 

Nyx smiles as he replies, typing with one hand and holding Noctis close with the other. 

 

_ [no training 2day slept w the prince last night]  _

 

It barely takes two seconds for her to respond, 

 

_ [OH MY GOD???]  _

 

He smirks, setting his phone aside. 

“Who's that?” 

“Crowe,” 

“You didn't tell her I'm here, did you?” 

Nyx bites his lip in attempt to hide a grin, looking away from Noctis as he does. 

“Nyx!” 

“I don't want to hide you,” his tone is changed, almost darker as he kisses his Prince hard, “I want to tell the world you're here with me.”

Noct blushes, answering in kisses as he lie on top of his glaive, soft moans in his throat when he feels Nyx slowly run his hands over his body. He feels vulnerable in his nakedness but not uncomfortable, allowing the light grips and scratches the glaive sets into his skin. 

“Nyx,” he breathes, “I'm still not sure if everyone should know. You could get hurt, or something-”

He is interrupted by the glaive forcing his way into his mouth, tongue swallowing the resulted moan he adored so much. Nyx keeps a hand on the Prince's back, the other gentle as it caresses his face, runs through strands of messy hair. 

“I love you,” the glaive says like second nature as he pulls away, repeating the words in a whisper as he kisses along his jawline, again at his ear, his forehead, until it's too late to notice Noctis is shaking-

“I…I….” he breathes. Tears well in the corners of his eyes.  _ How does it feel to be so loved, I never thought I'd feel like this.  _

Nyx sits up slightly, Prince in his lap again. “Hey -  _ hey,  _ it's alright,  _ it's alright,  _ what's wrong  _ little one?”  _ his concern coming in two forms as he holds the other's face and kisses at the tears that fall onto his cheek. 

“Th-is feels unreal,” he admits through broken breath. “How can you care about me so much after what I did?”

Nyx doesn't look at him. “I'm the one who walked away. I could have stayed there with you. Instead I left you…I don't deserve to have you back.” he looks at him with a sad sort of smile, tapping lightly as the Prince's chest as he continues, “at least I left my heart where it belonged.”

Noct laughs, embarrassed, “you dork.”

“What, no!” he says with a smile. 

Noctis cups his face in his hands. For a second he loses his way within the deep steel grey,  _ almost blue, still,  _ he considers. He brushes the small tattoo beneath his eye with his thumb, having grown to adore the mark completely. “I love you,” he is surprised he manages to keep looking at his eyes as he says it. He watches the grey shift into a brighter light at the words, “and we both fucked up - I thought it would somehow be better or easier without you. I dunno if I'd been more wrong before in my life. I do mean it, Nyx, I love you - and I want the world to know it, too. But I don't know if they can just yet.” 

The silver is cast down as Nyx sighs. “I know...you're right,” he offers with a kiss. He smiles, “I still can't help but feel this is all a dream.” 

“Stop being so sweet, you're gunna make me sick,” Noct teases. 

“ _ Baby, you are a dream come true in front of my eyes, _ ” he sings in response, laughing as Noct hides his face into his neck, kissing at the warmth of his skin. He kisses again at marks he'd left the night before, kisses at a familiar tattooed line. The glaive sighs as the Prince kisses deeper, sucking at his skin again, smiling when he tries to interrupt him, “I don't have enough marks from you already?” he teases, wanting more. 

“Mmno,” Noctis replies, busy at the skin before him. “You're mine,” he growls. 

“Yes,” Nyx admits, slightly surprised. “But,” he pushes the Prince away slightly, pointing out lighter marks along his chest. “ _ You're mine, _ ” 

Noct understands by gesture alone, blushing in embarrassment. “Fine,” he allows. 

There is fire in their lungs as they meet with bruising kisses, biting at each other’s skin in attempt to start the night over again. Noct tries to grind himself down, nearly crying out at the pain it caused him. Embarrassed, he kisses harder, arms around the glaive’s shoulders; he adores the warmth of Nyx’s skin, he feels with cold hands along swollen scratches he had left last night and all he wants is to leave him with more. But he is sleep deprived, exhausted, and overwhelmed, pulling away slightly and moving to lie back down, the glaive following suit without question. 

They slow, gentle kisses becoming prayer as they lie intertwined, autumn chills blanketing them both as the morning grows into afternoon. Nyx closes his eyes, memorizing every touch, every movement as they slowly break apart. They lie facing each other, Noctis unable to look away from the glaive’s eyes. He is so lost, so deep within a dream he doesn't hear distant sounds that break Nyx violently from their rest. 

“Something at the door,” he says, hushed. 

“Hmn…wait, what?” Noct sits up slightly, hearing for a sound. A light scratching, not a knock; it's familiar. 

“Umbra,” he simply says, moving to the edge of the bed. 

“Who?” 

“My dog,” he explains passively, fetching his pants from the floor. 

“Your what -?”

Noct ignores him, moving from the bed as he half dresses and walks toward the door. Nyx is reluctant to let him leave his embrace, but curious as he watches how slow and stuttering the Prince's movements seemed to be, concerned at having hurt him. 

The glaive sits up in surprise at the dog that enters his apartment without a sound other than tiny paws clicking on the floor as it walked inside. Nyx noticed an odd scarf tied to it, which seemed to hold something securely to its back. He adores the way Noct greets him, kneeling to face his companion with eyes full of light, hands brushing through dark fur before he freezes, looking back at Nyx. 

“You don’t mind if he’s in here, do you?”

“I...no? I’m just confused…?” his brow is furrowed, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Noctis returns to the bed, wrapping himself back in blankets as he leans against the glaive, who sat still staring at the strange animal in his apartment. He follows the Prince to the edge of the bed and sits on the floor, yellow eyes watching them both. 

“Can I ask where he came from?”  _ Or how he got here, or how I haven't seen him before -  _

“Umbra’s a…uh…oh,” Noctis grows puzzled at his own attempt at an explanation.  _ A spirit dog? He just knows where I am? He's been with me for as long as I can remember…oh man….  _

He tries repeating his thoughts to the glaive, and isn't surprised when Nyx's confused expression doesn't lighten. 

“He helps me take letters to Luna,” he continues. 

“Luna…freya?”

Noct nods. “We've been friends for as long as I can remember. Umbra carries my letters to her, hers to me - it's not the best way to communicate, but it works..?”

Nyx smiles. “Lady Luna doesn't have a phone-?”

Noct's expression deepens into a more serious tone, “it's a bit - difficult…the empire took her homeland, Tenebrae, and she's kinda stuck in her own home. We manage to communicate with the dogs because, well, I guess they aren't too suspicious,” he offers. 

_ God dogs…I guess they're good for something,  _ Nyx considers as he looks at Umbra, still staring back. He awkwardly pats the mattress in front of him, inviting the dog onto the bed, who accepts, hopping up noiselessly. He settles down in front of them, seemingly indifferent to his surroundings. Noctis laughs lightly. 

“He likes you,”

“How can you tell?” Nyx is hesitant as he runs a hand carefully through the dark, coarse fur on Umbra’s back. The dog’s ears twitch slightly at the contact, but he doesn't move. 

“He isn't usually comfortable around anyone. It took him a long time to get used to Ignis - he's still not sure of Prompto either - oh,” he stops.  _ Nyx doesn't know who Prompto is.  _ “You know Ignis, right?”

The glaive nods. “I haven't seen him around much. Uptight guy,” he says passively. 

“Ehh, not when you get to know him. He just cares about doing what's right. You only see him around the Citadel, that's why,” 

“And Prompto?”

“Friend from school. You'd like him a lot I think - he knows more about you though,” he says with a laugh. 

Nyx steals a kiss, a teasing tone, “you've been talking about me, little Prince?”

“Hey, you told Crowe I spent the night here - again,” he blushes. 

“She would have found out somehow, she knows everything.” Nyx grins. Noct kisses him once more before pulling away, approaching the tied ribbon around Umbra’s back. He unveils a thin book, soft leather cover worn at the edges and corners. Nyx leans away, not wanting to pry. 

Noctis takes notice. “You okay?”

“Yup - just don't want to intrude on that.” 

“Oh - I can do this later? Fuck, I'm sorry, I made things weird,” he combs through his hair with a shaky hand. “I can send him to my place, I'll just-”

“Noctis,” he kisses him again, smiling as he does. “I don't mind at all.  _ Dear heart _ , it's just nothing like I've seen. You keep surprising me,” he kisses his forehead as he stands, careful not to disturb the canine, who seemed to be asleep. “Can I get you something? Coffee maybe?”

Noctis nods. “Thanks,” 

“How do you like it?” he asks behind his back, checking to make sure the coffee he had made earlier was still warm.  _ It's alright.  _

“Black - two sugars is fine,” Noct answers as he opens the book in his hands. He ignores the smirk from the glaive and instead focuses on reading Luna's shorter letter; it covers less than a page, the empty space filled with messy, floral sketches. Her usual additions of metallic and cutesy stickers were absent, making the page feel almost sad. 

 

_ Dear Noctis.  _

 

_ My heart breaks at the news of the glaive. Let me know if there is anything I can do. All will heal, with time, please trust in that.  _

_ Do not worry about the gods. They can try to mock and disarm you, but they cannot destroy you.  _

_ And, you did not tell me of Ignis and Prom. How sweet for them! My heart warms at the thought. I hope they are happy for a long time.  _

_ As you said, if you are unsure of your heart…I think you have given up on the glaive too soon. I think he still loves you as you do him, not that I know him personally…but from what I've read of him, I doubt he'd give up on you.  _

_ I look forward to (hopefully) good news,  _

_ Love,  _

_ Luna.  _

 

Noct smiles, tears threatening his vision as Nyx sits beside him again. He hands him a mug, grateful at the warmth it offers to his hands. 

“Are you alright?” he hears from the glaive. 

He nods. “Yeah - I wrote to Luna almost a week ago, and she's not caught up with,” he gestures to Nyx, “all this. She's so sweet, Nyx, here,” he turns the book toward him, pointing out the final paragraph of her letter. 

Nyx is quiet. 

“I'm sorry,” Noctis starts, trying to gauge the expression he cannot read. 

“What did you...write to her before? You don't have to show me, I'm just, she's -” he stops as Noct flips backward a page, his messy scrawl reintroducing memories of what now felt like a distant nightmare. Nyx is quiet again as he reads. He is silent still as he finishes, barely blinking, expressionless, staring at his lover's words. 

“Nyx?” his voice a broken whisper in a silence of what felt like hours. 

“Your handwriting is awful,” the glaive tries with a smile, but cannot hide the crack in his voice, a hand covering his eyes and attempting to hide a sob. 

“I know,” Noct replies, his voice straining as well. He takes the book back with a shaking hand, sets his coffee down on the bedside table along with the glaive’s identical mug. 

Nyx seizes him in an embrace so strong, Noct catches his breath in his throat. 

_ “I love you, I love you, I love you,”   _ he says through slow tears. Noct tries to memorize the words as best as he can. 

“ _ I…love…you,” _ his attempt at Galahdian is broken and slow, voice shaky in words he doesn't know. But the effect on the glaive is just what he had hoped. Nyx sobs hard into the Prince's neck for a moment, shaking as he holds him close. 

“You…little king…you are everything,” he kisses at Noctis’ neck, “You do need practice, though.” he laughs, ragged. 

“I know,” he says again. He caresses the glaive’s face in his hand, kissing along his cheek and breaking from his embrace slightly. Nyx moves to sit beside him, leaning on him heavily. Noct doesn't mind in the slightest. 

He hands Nyx his coffee, quips “you're making fun of how I drink it when you have it the same way?” and takes the book back into his hands as he starts to write back to Luna. “You don't have to look away,” he laughs. “I wanna tell her about you - is that okay?”

“Of course.”

 

_ Luna, _

 

_ I took your advice. You were right. I mean, I'm reading your letter as I'm sitting here with Nyx, but I still wanted to explain -  _

_ It meant a lot, what you wrote. I listened to you, to Gladio,  _ (here, Nyx interrupts. “What, you told him, too?” his tone is light, teasing, but Noct is still embarrassed.)  _ and I knew I had to go back. I don't care what anyone says. I don't care what the gods say, either. You know? Now that I think of it, last night I dreamt of nothing. No gods. And Nyx was with me-  _ (Nyx kisses his forehead. Noct smiles, “okay, you're just reading everything now, I'm gunna tell her that, you know.”)  _ Anyway. You were right. He's actually watching me write this and it's…kind of cute - I just hope you don't mind _ (Nyx blushes and Noct laughs at him, ends the line with a scrawly ‘:P’ with three dashed lines over the eyes again.) 

_ Oh. I'm sorry for not telling you about Ignis and Prompto though - I'll let them know you send love!  _

_ Also - Nyx is very confused about Umbra and I'm not sure how to explain him to him - do I tell him Pryna exists, too?  _ (“wait…there's two of them?”)  _ oh right! I should tell him you're excited to start training.  _ (“Do you warp with weapons other than daggers?” Nyx is thoughtful, “yeah, you can,”)  _ the trident-warp is a go!  _ (“wait”)  _ he can't wait to meet you. You're gunna kick ass - more than usual, I mean. Hey, I think you'd like Crowe, too - she's a cool mage and a great friend. She also looks like she could kill me in like two seconds.  _ (They both laugh.) 

_ I'm rambling - I'll send Umbra back right away. It's nice to hear from you more often. Oh, and -  _

 

He hands the pen over to Nyx. The glaive is stunned, “are you sure? This seems like something very private for you guys.”

“No, it's fine. The guys have written in here before. Prompto’s sent her pictures, too,” he flips to a few months back, showing him a bleeding sunset over Insomnia’s horizon. There's a tiny caption Nyx cannot decipher, all capital letters and littered with exclamation marks. 

“Okay…” he gently scrawls a short line in his native tongue. Noct had never seen the words written out, which seemed even more confusing than the glaive speaking them. His writing was script-like, and almost jagged in straight lines.  _ Thank you for your kindness. It's lovely to meet you.  _

Nyx doesn't say what the words mean, leaves Noctis wondering as he scribbles carefully beside the line, 

 

_ Uh, Nyx is happy to meet you! (I think!)  _

 

_ Love, _

_ Noct <3 _

  
  


Nyx laughs. “You're close.”

Noct has sadness in his eyes. “I think you'd really like her if you met. I hope she can visit…soon,” he knew it was nearly impossible. 

“The empire takes everything,” Nyx kisses him in reassurance. “one day we'll get her here.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He affixes the journal back to Umbra, who is suddenly awake and alert, standing patiently on the mattress, tiny paws sinking into the blankets slightly. He watches the glaive with bright eyes. 

Nyx smiles and pats him lightly on the head. “We'll see you later, little one. You're welcome here anytime,” he offers. 

Noctis sends Umbra off with a loving half-hug, getting out of bed to open the door for him to leave. “Thanks,” he says quietly as he closes the door behind him, locking it again. He approaches the bed again, settling down next to his glaive with a small sigh, a slight smile on his lips. 

He curls up against Nyx, loving his warmth as he kisses slowly, lazily at his neck. 

“What do we do now?” Noct whispers, wanting an answer but not, wishing he could stay here for eternity. 

“Oh little king, the world is ours,” Nyx leans against the wall, breathing in rhythm to the kisses at his skin. “You can come here anytime you like. I know we need to be careful out there, but we're safe in here.”

Noct grins. “I'd show you my place again, but it's not as cosy. But - you can visit me anytime,” he taunts, kissing at his jawline. 

 

\---

 

The afternoon settles into a haze, the chill from the outside settling into a deeper cold as evening arrives. The Prince and glaive lean into each other, both settled into a state of being neither asleep nor awake. They focus on each other's breathing, the way their hands intertwine, the warmth shielding them from an autumn into winter. Noct is startled awake by his phone buzzing around on the floor, shocking Nyx in the process as he jumps. 

“Ffshit, sorry,” he mumbles, nearly falling off the side of the bed to grab his phone.  _ [1 msg: Specs]  _

 

_ [Noct - just checking in. Haven't heard from you today, but Gladio mentioned something about the glaive??]  _

 

He yawns as he replies, 

 

_ [Hey Ignis. I'm fine, with Nyx -]  _

 

And a swift return, 

 

_ [?? You'll have to tell me about it in person. Will you be at the apartment tonight?]  _

 

“No,” he hears behind him, a kiss at the back of his neck. The kisses grow deeper, hungrier, the glaive’s hands circling around and bringing him close. 

“Are you sure you don't mind me staying?” he smiles, trying to hide the pleasure across his face. 

“Quite the opposite,” he continues kissing at his neck, holding the Prince against his chest tightly. 

He tries to answer his phone, failed attempts at stopping the whines from his throat as he feels teeth at his skin. 

 

_ [No o will see u tmrw www]  _

 

He manages before tossing his phone aside to give his full attention away to his glaive, turning on him, pinning him down to the mattress as he kisses hard. 

_ “Oh, little king, please,” _ the feeling of the Prince on top of him sending him straight to heaven.

Noct growls against warm skin as he speaks. “You're gunna have to teach me to speak like that, so I can show you what it does to me,” he teases as he grinds into his lover. 

“ _ Yes, yes - yes,”  _ he pleads. 

Noct tries.  _ “Y..es?” _ he says as he looks down at the glaive, wondering where the silver of his eyes would lead him. It was like falling into a dream, falling into a state of complete bliss. 

Nyx is overwhelmed with the pace of his heart, eyes full of adoration as he looks at Noctis, memorizing the feeling of his small, cold hands wrapped around his own wrists, holding him to the bed. They stare at each other in silence, unsure of where to go next but sure of a certainty that may as well have been there since day one. 

“I'm not letting you go,” the soft voice of the glaive. 

“Good,” the Prince returns. 

They meet again in slow kisses, a wildfire calmed into a loving haze, Noct moving his hands to hold his glaive’s face close. Together they lose the rest of the world, not a care remaining as they lose track of time, they lose the feeling of the space around them, they lose a sense of reality altogether. Nyx’s heart stops as they kiss through tears, he can feel them fall across his face though they are not his own. He tries to pull away but Noctis doesn't care, continues his love despite his knees shaking into the mattress on either side of the glaive, he does not care. This is the only thing he needs. 

Night falls where sleeping lovers lie, gentle cascades of moonlight caressing their forms against a worn mattress and a cold apartment. There is no space between them, a quiet longing to meet within dreams fulfilled even as they hold each other impossibly close. What was to come next, they did not know, nor did they care. This was everything. 

Everything they had wanted since day one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- man, all this fluff is making me sick -
> 
> \- ** a note on Nyx's singing; i've been waiting to write that section for weeks and weeks and i've honestly imagined he would sound a lot like [this?? (Aragorn's Elvish singing from LOTR)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV1xhnLcihc)
> 
> \- thank you guys again for reading! I appreciate it so much <3 please let me know your thoughts so far, there's much more to come!


	15. Day 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to glaive training after a long break. Things get a bit awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i just wanna say i'm so sorry for leaving for two months - I AM BACK and this fic /WILL/ be finished i promise
> 
> -enjoy the read; this is by far my longest chapter yet !
> 
> \- *** nyx italics = galahdian <3

 

\---

_ But better love _

_ Was buried in the snow _

_ A million years ago _

 

_ But sweeter love _

_ Couldn’t find you in the knife wounds _

_ Through that cold slumber  _

_ Holding a gentle heart with shaking hands _

_ \--- _

  
  


Noct fitted his glove lazily, tired eyes as he wandered throughout the glaive’s apartment. The dawn was cold; they had fought the morning by refusing to greet it, huddled close beneath blankets and living off of soft kisses and sweeter words. They shared gentle love, sleepy and slow, unsure if they had met within a dream. Each loathed how soon the morning was spent, Nyx trying to make the Prince look forward to training with him again.  _ “I hope you didn’t forget everything,” _ he had teased. Noctis smirked in response, finding the thought ridiculous.  _ “Just try me, glaive. I’ll take you on,”  _ his threat met with rough kisses that pressed him against the mattress, skin hot to the touch and mind on fire. 

Now they stood - somewhat awkwardly - in the apartment, Noct finding the glaive feeling somehow distant in his uniform, looking like a stranger in his gilded coat and tidied braids. Noctis listens to his retelling of a recon mission he had been on with Crowe out in Liede; the Prince had never been, interested in the details Nyx could remember. He felt anxious about asking, not wanting to return to a potentially painful memory.

“No, Liede was alright - a bit dusty, too hot -” Nyx’s voice fades in through his thoughts.

“How is that ‘alright’?”

“Hey, nevermind,” he smiles as he fastens the chain on his jacket. “you might like it.”

Noctis shrugs from his stance near the door. He slips into his boots without bothering to tighten them. “Doesn't sound like it,”

Nyx smiles but doesn’t say more, wants to tell the Prince how the stars ripped into his broken heart when he tried to find their mystery, instead finding nothing but the  _ eyes  _ he learned to adore so deeply. Noct is instead answered with a kiss, calm and slow as together they stand in the apartment. The loud outside trails in as remnants of summer remain in echoes of sunlight that breach Insomnia’s wall. The morning streets are busy, alive, welcoming to the autumn and preparing for the cold. 

The Prince and his glaive embraced again, nothing but each other for the past few days. Noct leaned into a heartbeat, slow and calm, felt himself letting go of anything else - what had it been, yesterday? What had it been,  _ where am I? _

_ Who even cares?  _

-nothing else mattered,  _ the whole world is right here, isn’t it? _

No answers of bellowing laughter.  _ Not yet.  _

“Are you sleeping on me again, young Prince?” an impossibly soft, muffled voice kissed into his hair. Noct didn’t answer, didn’t want to move in a place he was so happily frozen. 

But the glaive pulls away slightly, smiling in a way Noct cannot see. “Noctis,”

“So how do we do this,” Noctis states to the ground suddenly. Training. The busy streets outside. The Prince leaving the glaive’s apartment with hundreds of eyes suddenly aware, angry, dangerous -  _ cold. _

Nyx is thoughtful for a moment. He holds cold hands in his own, now gloved, hating the feeling that enveloped them both. Knowing a slow moving world encapsulated by slower love was about to be torn open by the apartment door. 

 

\---

 

They had planned it carefully, but Noct still shook as he tried to walk, quicker than usual, toward the Citadel’s grounds. He took his phone from his pocket, surprised it had any charge, typed as quickly as possible.

_ [He- hey - cannt mke it 2 practice - back w the glaives today] _

He assured himself the Shield would understand.

 

_ “I’ll leave first, okay?” _

_ “Okay,” _

_ “What’s wrong?” _

_ “They’re gunna see me leave-” _

_ He gestures out the door, angles his hand sideways and swoops his arm around. “There’s a back alley this way, just swing around there if you’re worried. Do you want to go first? I don’t think there’s anything to worry ab-”  _

_ “It’s okay, I’m okay, it’s just - I should have -” he’s taken that route before. But somehow, the panic he felt was heightened, violent in his heart. _

_ “Noctis-” _

_ He’s shaking for no reason but for all of them. “People are gunna find out about us, they’re gunna find out and it’ll be bad-” _

_ Steady hands on his shoulders, calm, steel eyes forcing his stare in return.  _

 

His phone vibrates in his hand, startling him so suddenly that he nearly drops it on the concrete. 

_ [scored big, huh? (; ] _

“Goddammit Gladio,” but he can’t help but smile.  _ [stfu lmao] _

He continues the walk, ignoring the possible stares from the citizens surrounding him. In the back of his mind he knew they didn’t care, nothing out of the ordinary, just the Prince or someone that looked like him - the Prince was always wandering the city, but not usually alone.

 

_ “Nyx wait” _

_ He turns around, hand reaching toward the door. “What is it?” _

_ “I can’t forget again-” he stops, fumbles for his phone, “gimme your number-” _

_ Nyx laughs. “Damn, you’re good at flirting with me,” but he obeys anyway. _

_ “Shut up,” he blushes hard. His face is so warm. _

_ One last kiss in return.  _

 

He doesn’t know what else to do, his hands are  _ so cold  _ as he hurriedly types away, slamming his phone to his ear as he waits, steps erratic. 

_ “Noct.” _

“Ignis, hey, uh, yeah - on - on-”

_ “Everything alright, Noct?” _

He breathes. “Y-eah I’m just really, anxious right now - hey I’m on my way to glaive trainin-”

_ “With Nyx?” _

“Yeah.”

Silence for a moment.  _ “Alright, did you tell Gladio? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” _

Noct rolled his eyes through the sarcasm he could hear. 

_ “Noct.” _

“Yeah.”

_ “Are you sure about this?” _

 

_ “They’re gunna think it’s weird I’m back training with you.” _

_ “They already think it’s weird.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Don’t worry. I’ll explain it all before you even get there.” _

_ “Can we? Can we? Keep doing this? I’m-” _

_ “Noctis -” _

_ “No, n-o-” _

_ “Are you sure about this?” _

_ He could see pain in those eyes, pain that he caused. He wondered if there were more behind them. _

_ “Of course I am.” his voice straightened out.  _

_ Yes. _

 

“Don’t worry.” he told himself, he told Ignis, he told anyone that would listen.

A sigh; not frustrated, not disappointed - something Noct couldn’t figure out.  _ “Fine. But you’re both coming to the apartment tonight.” _

“My apartment?”

“ _ Where else? I’ll make dinner. If you’re going to do this, you’re not going to just hide each other away.” _

Noct caught his breath, heart jumping into his throat. “Are - you sure?”

 

_ “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t worry about the other glaives, a lot are gone on recon stuff anyway. Mostly just the mages left around.” _

_ Noctis nods. _

_ He waits as the glaive leaves. There’s a slow realization that he’s alone in a space he shouldn’t be so comfortable with. He looks at the wall near the door, thinks of his scar. His gaze wanders to the small couch, another wall, to the bed in the corner, beneath a wide window. Everything is so calm.  _

 

The Citadel feels quieter than usual, the day later than Noct had assumed. Well past noon, much later than they had anticipated to arrive.  He feels a chill, the autumn settling around despite the sunshine. He studies the training ground as he approaches, larger than he remembers, the stone pillars surrounding his view like a forgotten nightmare.

_ Did you -? _

He notices Crowe. She’s tying her gloves, fighting with a knot on the back of her forearm. 

“Ah, shit,” she mutters, pulling at the knot. Noct laughs, catching her off guard. 

“Need some help?” 

“Hey, Prince!” she smiles but tries to hide a larger grin. He knows she knows, trying his best to ignore it as he takes her arm, undoing the stiff lace near her elbow. 

“How have things been?” he asks before she can say anything. 

She answers with a half shrug, mentions the same Liede mission that Nyx had been talking about before. That the weather was  _ too fucking hot _ , but the night sky clear, the stars more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. She mentioned how Nyx agreed, trying to name the constellations but just making them up as he went along. Noct wondered why he hadn’t talked about it.

“Where is everyone?”

“Eh, shit missions. Just, mostly small, random stuff to keep the Nifs at bay. It’s boring,” she smirks.

Noctis smiles. “Still better than Gladio’s training,” he offers.

She smiles. “How’s he doing?”

“Eh, he’s Gladio. Doesn’t say much, but I think he’s doing alright.”

“He’s a good guy.”

Noct blinks hard as he finishes tying Crowe’s glove once again. “Yeah. He’s helped me out more than he could ever know.”

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate.

“Thanks,” she simply says as he lets go of her arm. 

“You need better gloves.”

“Hey, they get the job done,” she grins despite herself. 

“Well, long time no see,” he hears behind him.

Nyx’s voice shakes him to his core, shocked at how cold he could sound if he wanted. He tries not to grin at the words. “Yeah,” he answers flatly without turning around. Crowe’s eyes light up, knowing full well and enjoying the show.

“What brought you back? Figured you’d had enough,” the sharpness in his voice causes surrounding mages and a few lone glaives to look up, expressions curious.  _ The Prince has returned. _

He tries not to laugh, rolling his eyes. “Nope,” he challenges.

Nyx walks past him into the training ground, saying nothing in return. Crowe sees the grin on his face, Noctis only imagines it.

Nyx readies his daggers, waits in the center of the field. Noct approaches with shaking limbs, trying to put himself into the situation. All he can think of are the nights before. Noctis sighs and summons one blade at a time, visibly nervous. He cannot look the glaive in the eyes.

Nyx takes notice. He thinks of wanting nothing more than to drop his weapons into the dust, take the Prince into his arms - instead he takes them both by surprise, warping into Noctis and causing a familiar metallic  _ clash _ . 

“W-what the hell!?”

“Miss me?” he whispers through a grin, words barely audible. 

“Fuck,” Noctis glares at him. “You,”

The glaive rolls his eyes with a small smile. “You already did,” he teases.

His eyes widen and he feels his face grow hot. “Shut up!” he panics, loud enough for the surrounding glaives to hear. He strikes again, the glaive whirling around behind him.

The dust swirls around their feet, they are close, exchanging dagger strike after strike, neither trying hard enough to make it into a challenge, both too busy with watching the other. Noct hates how fluid the glaive’s movements are, biting his lip and pushing every intrusive thought from his mind. He strikes left, taking Nyx by surprise.

“You’ve improved,”

“You’ve gotten lazy,” Noct offers, swinging once then rolling beneath the glaive’s deflecting arm to dodge. He smirks at the surprised expression, takes a moment to observe the area before he moves again.

Having grown unused to the void, warping for the first time in weeks caused Noct’s heart to nearly stop, reminding himself not to fall into total panic as he focuses on his target. He sighs with relief as he lands into the pillar, blade jutting out of a crack in the stone. He hangs several feet in the air, staring down at the glaives below. Many watch, amused. Nyx waits.

“I guess you didn’t forget everything,” he teases.

“You’re really pissing me off,” Noct shouts in reply, half serious. 

The glaive shrugs. Something flashed through his expression he had tried to hide but couldn’t.  _ Don’t fall, don’t - _

It was difficult to pretend. Difficult to act as if the previous days were nothing but pure bliss, the sense of a different world leaking in through the cracks of this one. Not hanging in the air, strung by a blade that had sliced open his chest, but deeply safe and calm in a blanketed sleep with someone he should not love.

The thought bled into his mind as he froze, hand shaking around the dagger’s hilt as the voice, so intrusive, returned in full force.

_ Cannot love, cannot love, cannot love _

_ Cannot _

_ Will not  _

“Stop-” he says aloud, ready to lose his grip from the stone. His vision blurred with blue light.

“Your Highness?” _ was that Nyx? _

_ Will not love a waste of time  _

_ You are made only for Us _

“That’s - enough-” but his voice did not feel like his.

“Noctis!” he couldn’t recognize that.

Nyx could see the spasm striking through the Prince’s limbs before he let go of the blade jutting from the stone, letting himself tumble into dust without a sound. His eyes grew wide with fear, mind blank as he ran toward him.

_ You see? _

“Ngh,” his wrist was stinging, his shoulder sore. He sat up numbly, blinking a few times.

He felt a familiar hand on his arm, but couldn’t make out the words being said to him. 

“I’m -- it’s them,” he admits. “I’m not - strong enough for this -”

_ Them-?  _ It only takes a second for the glaive to realize. “Your gods,” it’s barely a whisper, but Noct can hear him again. He can see him, too, his face tired with agonizing panic.

“I’m okay,” he tries to laugh. “No more warping for now though.”

Nyx nods. “You alright to stand?”

“Yeah,” and he feels fine, save the lingering torment the gods threatened to unleash.

 

The spar continues. Nyx, now seeming less concerned, takes the first strike, slower this time, lunging forward but not hard. Noct clashes with a brutal response, striking harder than necessary. Shaken by something he could not control. 

He steps backward, sideways, skillful and attentive to the glaive. The dust beneath his feet shuffles slowly, wary of what’s to come. Nyx circles around him, lashing at his back.

“Come on,” the Prince taunts, deflecting it with ease. He smiles like it’s easy. 

A smirk that he wishes he could hate. “I could have you on the ground if I wanted to,” Noct is flustered at how flirtatious he sounds.

“Do it then,” as he swings his left arm, dagger pointed down has if to stab into something. It was faulty on his part, the blade being knocked out of his hand by an easy deflection. 

Noct can feel the eyes of other glaives watching him, their amusement through his words, voice shaking but stance ready. Nyx is grinning, knowing he can’t lose.

Noct dashes forward, low to the ground as if to strike the glaive’s waist but to no avail; he is knocked easily away, tumbling across the dirt. 

“Fuck,”

“Had enough yet?” he can hear the smirk without looking up.

Without answering, he stands again, taken aback as he sees Nyx remove his coat, lazily tossing it to the side. 

“Are you trying to be funny,” he manages flatly, trying not to blush. He knows the glaives will think nothing of the empty threat, but Nyx’s eyes are telling enough for the Prince to know his intent.

“What? It’s still warm out,” he gestures around, turning away from Noct to stifle a laugh.

_ Fine, _ he thinks, taking his stance again. He tries not to let his thoughts wander as he dashes again, unrelenting, determined to knock the glaive down. But he cannot land a hit, Nyx knocking his attacks away with short laughter, leaving the Prince feeling mocked without meaning to. 

“Goddammit,” Noct breathes, his movements becoming staggered.

“We can stop-”

“No-” and the voice doesn’t feel like his.  _ NO- _

The blades are ragged, glimmering still and flashing before his eyes as he loses control completely.

_ You see? You see?  _ There is laughter but he can only see a sudden and knowing fear on the glaive’s face.

Nyx watches still and shocked as Noct becomes a blur, only clearly seeing his eyes or what they had become - bright, unforgiving lights of deep blue. 

“Noctis,” he tries.

_ Only a waste of time _

_ Get rid of wasted time _

Noctis panics at the voice in his head.  _ I don’t want to kill him! I don’t want to hurt him! Stop! STOP- _

He’s trying to get away, trying to stop himself from lashing out more than the glaive can defend. The surrounding glaives see no change, only their eyes light up at  _ “a trick the Prince must be doing with his magic,”  _ they did not see the fear in their comrade’s eyes.

_ Foolish, only broken hearts- _

_ “St-op” _ Noct is trying to speak but mangled words escape through exhaustion.

_ Only a waste of time _

_ Get rid of the wasted time- _

“No!” Noct rips through his thoughts like violent lightning, plummets himself into the dust - but not before feeling the sickening drag of a blade through flesh.

_ “Fuck,” _ he hears behind him. The training grounds are still. 

Noctis watches his glaive fall to his knees, gloved hand soaked red as it clutches his opposing forearm. 

“Nyx-!” he scrambles over to him, ignoring how  _ tired, how drained  _ he feels. 

“It’s fine,” the glaive offers weakly. Noct can’t tell if he’s angry or afraid.

“No, no, dammit, I’m-” he chokes up. “I’m so sorry - I can - I can -” he breathes, grabbing the arm he so delicately sliced. He ignores Nyx’s attempts to pull away, heart broken that he would be afraid to be near him.

He sets his guilt aside, studies the wound. A fine, six inch slice opened the glaive’s arm; it was not deep, but the blood flowed quickly. Noct took a deep breath, placed a hand flat against the wound. Blood is surrounding him, covering his hands and making the glaive look terribly pale. He knew he could reverse what the gods had made him do. He looked at Nyx before he continued. 

“Please forgive me.”

Closing his eyes, he curses the gods that blessed him with the healing light that spilled from his veins. It took all the strength he had, it took everything not to collapse into the glaive as he held his arm steady, shaking hands now unmoving.  _ You’re never hurting him again, _ he curses the voice, curses the world he was made into. He works slow, the warmth of light caressing the glaive’s wound, drying and erasing the lines of red and sealing the tear of his skin. It’s a strange glow, golden white light bleeding across Nyx’s skin, leaking through the cracks separating Noct’s fingers. His breathing slows, he falls into a meditative calm and focuses only on the blinding warmth that was shared within them both.

Nyx is stunned into a watchful silence.  _ How does he know how to do this, _ he wants to ask, but his mind is blank as he feels the intensity of the light upon his wound. The attack was fast, he damned himself for being too careless with a son of kings, a son of gods, should have known how strong their power could be.

_ I could have died. Noctis could have - _

His heart longs to hold him.  _ It’s not his fault, but -  _

“You’re...it’s...not that deep, so….so….it’s gunna….gunna be fine….” Noctis sighs, his exhaustion clear in his voice and upon his face. Nyx pushes his hand away as gently as possible. The light vanishes and the warmth disappears. Noct looks up at him with tired, terrified eyes. 

“It’s okay.” 

“No, that wasn’t-”

“Noctis.” a sweeping, steady calm. He takes his - now shaking - hand, remembers where they are, squeezes it slightly before letting go. 

“I’m so sorry,” the Prince is so tired, voice cracking and threatening a sob.

“How did you know how to do that?” he gestures to his forearm. The cut is no longer open, but fresh, stings slightly but no longer bleeds. 

“Oh, ah, hm,” he can’t say much more. Nyx gives him a moment to recover.

The other glaives watch, awkward, unsure of what to do. Crowe approaches the two of them, still sitting in the dust. 

“Guys - is everything okay?” she sits with them rather than make them stand, seeing the injury fresh on the glaive. Noctis can hardly keep his eyes open, but tries to greet her with a small smile. 

“It’s all good,” Nyx tries to sound calm, tries to phase out the awkward stillness that settled upon the field. 

She looks at Noctis. “That was risky,” 

“I - I know,” he sighs. “But I - I hurt him, I hurt Nyx, I hurt my, my,” he’s trembling too hard to continue. Crowe takes notice, puts her arm around his shoulders and pulls him to lean on her.

“Your  _ boyfriend _ ?” she whispers at them, laughing quietly. Noctis’ eyes widen, whines quietly. Nyx grins slightly, blush crossing his face. They don’t push the conversation, sitting in silence until Crowe realizes the Prince had fallen asleep. 

She lies her hand flat against his shoulder, a familiar glow emitting from her gloved hand. She looks at Nyx. “So what happened?”

He adores the way Noct sleeps, nearly missing Crowe’s question. “I don’t...exactly know.” he looks at his wound. “The...god thing - I think it’s getting a lot worse for him.”

“God thing?”

He explains, reminding her of how Noctis had lost control weeks and weeks ago when they had fought with magic for the first time. “His eyes, they were just - light - it was horrifying. He couldn’t hear me, couldn’t take back control - I think he might have managed to, otherwise he might have got me through the chest,” gesturing to his arm. 

“Nyx, why would they -?”

“Is it a… do they know I’m worthless?” he laughs pathetically, looking at the Prince. 

“Nyx, come on,” she sighs, taking her hand off of Noctis’ shoulder. The light dimmed, faded into the air with a professional flick of her wrist. “That should keep him going - he really exhausted himself, doing that.”

“I feel like an idiot,”

“Don’t beat yourselves up. This situation it’s...pretty weird, alright? You both need to be more careful.”

“What if he...the way he looked at me...I feel terrible - he probably thinks I’m terrified of him -”

“Just  _ be  _ careful, okay?” she turns to face Noct, lifts him carefully from the ground. She carries him over to one of the broken stone walls, leaning him against it. She turns back to Nyx, who had followed. “I’ve gotta go. Let me know how he’s feeling later, okay? You too,” she nods at his arm. He nods in return.

Nyx doesn’t know what to do, leans against the stone beside the Prince. He watches the clouds lazily sweep the late afternoon sky. A blackbird hops on a broken stone pillar, walking back and forth along the ledge. It pecks at the stone ruin in search of food, tiny  _ clicks  _ being the only sound in the field. The glaive sighs, closing his eyes.

“Are you terrified of me?” a small voice squeaks, lined with exhaustion but steadier than before. 

“No, sweetheart.” he no longer cares who hears him. He doesn’t realize how late in the day it is, how late the afternoon grew, how the rest of the glaives were long gone.

Noct’s heart feels warm. “I gotta do something about these guys, huh,” he tries to joke.

Nyx wears a small smile. “Noctis, I don’t know if this is a good-”

“I heard what you said.”

“Hm?”

“You said you’re worthless. You’re not.” 

Nyx doesn’t respond. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the stars?” his mind wanders to Crowe, her stories of Liede.

Nyx smirks. “You really wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

The glaive closes his eyes. “It was too sad.”

Noct fumbles around for the glaive’s hand, holds it tightly but doesn’t say anything.

“It’s sort of embarrassing. I thought - the sky was so beautiful out there. No city lights. Nothing to take away the same stars I see in you. All I could do was cry,” he tries to laugh. “All I could do was think of how wasted the sight was on me without being able to share it with you. The truth is,” he speaks to the clouds. “I don’t know constellations. I know the ones at home. Or, I knew, I can’t really recognize a lot of them - I made them up. I tried everything to place myself somewhere I could feel happy. Every single place was next to you. And I thought - ‘wow, how hopeless and sad, how worthless this place feels’ because, well,” he sighs, “I had walked away. Then, I thought I would never see you again. But I looked at the stars and saw you everywhere - then I knew it - I was worthless. My heart felt so hollow. How someone, something so perfect and beautiful could just slip away-”

“Fuck sakes,” a shaking sob escapes Noct, freeing his hand from the glaive’s to hide his face. He coughs out a cry, laughing embarrassed sobs into his hands. 

“I’m sorry.” he’s thoughtful as Noct shakes his head, leans against his shoulder. “I guess if any of this means anything, just...Noctis, I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Them. I’ve learned what it feels to be without you, and I’m confident nothing could be worse.”

“Are...you sure?” he glances up at Nyx with red and tired eyes. 

“I love you,” he says without hesitation. “I will fight the gods myself if I have to, I won’t let them hurt you-”

“Nyx - I almost killed  _ you  _ -!” 

“I won’t let it happen.”

“You don’t  _ know- _ ”

Nyx swings his arms around his Prince. “Then I’ll hold you as tight as I can,” he kisses into Noct’s hair. “How ‘bout that? I’ll never let go of you again,”

Noct chuckles, “you fucking nerd,” he studies the arms around him, notices the red line that would certainly scar. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Well, I mean - you healed me too - that’s gotta cancel out, right?”

He feels Noctis shrug within his embrace.

“Hey - how come you’ve never told me about that, by the way?”

Another shrug. “Never really think about it. I never really need it, and it’s really hard to use.”

Nyx nods. “I see that. Are  _ you _ feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Crowe helped me out quite a bit. I feel like I owe her my life by now,”

The glaive laughs. “Don’t worry - we all do.”

The afternoon disappears into evening around them, clouds swirling along the city’s horizon. The glaive doesn’t want to move, content sitting in the dirt with a smile on his face, confident the Prince had fallen asleep. He studies the ruin around them, wondering what the field had looked like years upon years before this. What was it supposed to be? Noct shifts beneath his weight, sighing against his chest.

Noct feels exhausted, almost asleep when he feels his phone going off in his pocket. “Ohh, shit,” 

“Hm?” 

“I...ugh. Okay. Please forgive me for this -”

Nyx sits up, eyebrow arched. “Noctis…?”

He looks at his phone, blinks hard after reading the message. “Okay - uhm. Earlier today - I talked to Ignis, and he?”

Nyx pieced together what he could. “Wants to fight me?”

“N-n, god, no, I hope not -” he half-laughs. “He wants you - and me - to come over? And just - meet him? Talk it out?”

“Talk it out…?” he grins as the Prince blushes, embarrassed. 

“Hhgh - you know what I mean-! I’m sorry, I feel so awkward, it’s so weird, and I just,” he hides his face partially in his hand. “I just wanna go back to yesterday,” he admits with a whine.

“Mmn,” Nyx agrees. 

“This is gunna be so weird,” he groans.

“Don’t worry about it,” a reassuring reply. He glances around them, noticing the arriving evening. “I guess we should go now, huh?” he grins, unable to hide his sudden nervousness entirely.

\----

 

Clouds settled over the rift of Insomnia’s wall as the afternoon bled into a still evening. The sun was sheltered beneath veils of grey, the air becoming achingly cold as Noctis and the glaive head through city streets. Noct shivers, nervous and becoming very cold, exhaustion returning as he stumbles beside Nyx.

It’s agonizing. Nyx studies the area around them, a bustling street watching the Prince as they always do, used to his presence but used to having their eye on him. He knows he cannot throw an arm around him, can’t keep him warm out here. He curses himself,  _ I shouldn’t be upset, we both know that we can’t- _

“Damn, it’s cold,” Noct interrupts with a shaky laugh. The oncoming winter reminds him of stories from his father, stories of Gralea. He wondered how the Imperial citizens survived winters colder than this, for much longer stances of time. 

He wondered if he would ever be able to see it in person. 

Nyx eyes him carefully. “Can I give you my jacket?”  _ that’s not weird, right? _

He considers it. Laughs inwardly at imagining himself tumbling around in the glaive’s coat, comically oversized on the Prince. “Thanks, but,” he glances up at him with a smirk. “It’s not much farther.”  _ Maybe one day, I guess. _

Nyx nods, silent in a gnawing disappointment. He doesn’t mean to glare at the citizens on the street,  _ why would they care, _ he figures, but he cannot take the risk. 

“Do you like the cold,” he hears Noct start, words nearly stolen by a biting rush of wind.

“I’ve learned to,” the glaive offers. “Galahd was nothing like this - and Gralea is about a hundred times worse,” as if taking the Prince’s thought.

“You’ve been there?”

Nyx nods. “Only once. Beautiful. But too cold to enjoy it.”

They walked in silence for a while, reaching the steps of a building much too tall, too modern, but hidden within Insomnia’s realm. Nyx studied the structure, and those surrounding it; the heart of the city felt colder than the wind against his face. 

They make their way in, Noct fishing a small key from the inside of his jacket, hands shaking as he opens the door. 

Nyx finds the apartment hollow and unwelcome, setting up further anxiety within his chest as they take a small elevator up a number of floors. They step into a cold hallway, Noctis leading the way to an apartment Nyx had been two twice before.

 

“Okay, relax,” the Prince mutters, facing his apartment door.

“I am relaxed,” Nyx replies from behind him.

“I wasn’t talking to  _ you, _ ” he returns, hardly able to breathe.  _ This shouldn’t be so weird- _

His thoughts halt as he hears a singsong voice from inside. A muffled comment, followed by easy laughter he knew all too well.

“Oh come on,” he says, swinging the door open. “ _ Prompto’s _ here??”

“Hey Noct!” he greets from the couch.

“You know this is my apartment, right?”

“Hey, get used to it man,” 

Noct rolls his eyes as he and the glaive step inside. Ignis passively waves at them, busy at the stove. Prompto glances at them, suddenly quiet. 

“Sir Ulric,” Ignis says warmly, glancing over at him shortly. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Yeah - I mean, we have met befor-”

“You know what I mean,” he smiles warmly, eyeing Noct as he says it.

Nyx nods with a small smile. He looks around the apartment, dizzy at how different the atmosphere was when he had been here last. 

Noctis, feeling less anxious than before, focuses on kicking off his boots, unfastening his glove - expression flashing when he notices spots of blood on it - and quickly tosses it aside. He looks at his other hand, making sure the glaive’s blood hadn’t got anywhere else. For the first time, he noticed small, lightning shaped lines marking his opposite palm; a brutal result of healing magic. It was as if the healing light had burned the Prince’s veins. He inwardly panics, praying the marks will go away.

Meanwhile, Nyx steps further into the apartment, removes his coat and waves toward the couch. “Prompto, right?”

“Y-yeah, hey,” he blushes at the glaive. “Heard a lot about you - nice to finally meet you,” he laughs awkwardly.

Nyx looks at the Prince, “you’ve been telling stories about me?” 

“I dunno what he’s talking about,” he tries not to smile at he crosses his arms, looking at the ground before letting his eyes flash to Prompto, his expression telling. 

Ignis interrupts, asking Nyx about his mission at Liede. Unprepared to relive the memory, the glaive complies, leaning against a kitchen counter passively, crossing his arms as he speaks. He focuses on the battles, the daemons in the wild, Ignis nodding along, listening intently.

Noct moves to sit next to Prompto on the couch, flipping him off as he approaches.

_ Wow, dude,  _ Prompto mouths at him, eyes wide.

“What?” Noct blushes, trying not to sound too annoyed. He sits next to his friend, trying to ignore how hot his face feels.

“Look at  _ him _ ,” Prompto’s face reddens, trying not to look at the glaive for too long.

“I’m telling Ignis,” 

“Come on, I know he feels the same - he’s just better at hiding it,” his friend replies with a smirk.

Noct rolls his eyes.

And, in a hushed tone, “so what happened?” Prompto asks, referring to  _ this  _ and to  _ them _ , how days before Noct had been a depressed mess, refusing to see anyone, agonizing heartache surrounding him. Prompto looked at him now; light full in his eyes, a glow in his veins that brought him back to life. 

Noct speaks quietly in return, eyes flickering to his glaive, still chatting away with Ignis. The sight makes him relax. “I dunno I just - I couldn’t take it anymore,” he smirks, embarrassed. “I was training with Gladio and I couldn’t focus on anything - my dreams were becoming worse, not better - it doesn’t matter what the Gods want with him, they’ll bother me no matter what. But that’s not why - I...felt like there was a hole in my heart - that sounds so stupid, I know - but, I guess, I just - couldn’t do it. It hurt too much.” his eyes turned sad. 

Prompto smiled. “I get it. So how’d you guys…?”

“I ran to his apartment,” he admits with his head in his hands. 

“ _ Ran  _ there?” 

“Shut up,” his voice is muffled, doesn’t notice the glaive laugh at him from across the room until it’s too late. “You too!” he adds with a sharp look.

“You’re out of shape,” Nyx teases. Prompto laughs, eyes apologetic as he glances at the Prince.

“Hhhhg,” Noct groans into his hands, swears he can hear Ignis smirk, too. 

They eat together in silence, Noct realizing how starved he had been the past few days. He listens to Prompto talk about his photography, how he had gone to the outskirts of Insomnia on the south side.

“The water’s beautiful at sunset,” he offers. “Totally calm out there the other day. No ships out or anything,” to which Noctis nods with interest. Nyx doesn’t say much, sips at the strongest coffee Ignis has ever had to make. He’s lost in thought, watching his Prince with shining eyes.  _ And just a few days ago I-  _

“So how was training today?” Ignis interrupts his thought.

Nyx isn’t sure how to describe it, thankful Noct speaks up first.

“Uh, well - I almost killed Nyx,” not the answer he was expecting, eyes widening as he stares at the other three.

“I wouldn’t - say that,” the glaive offers weakly.

Ignis isn’t amused. “Killed how? What’re you talking about?”

“Ignis, remember how I told you about the Lucii before, like, a while ago,” he starts, nodding toward the glaive. “The magic stuff, losing control - it was similar. But a lot worse.”

Ignis doesn’t say a word, nods in wait for him to continue. 

“I kept seeing them in my dreams. They laugh louder every time. No matter what I do, they won’t leave,” he says in defense. “Even trying to stay away from Nyx didn’t make them stop. So today I was warping and I lost it. Could only see blue light, tried to tell them to stop and it was difficult but I think I could have done a lot worse,” he feels exhausted reliving it, leaning back on the couch and reaching for the glaive’s arm. “See?”

Ignis and Prompto both watch for a moment.

“It doesn’t look new,” Ignis comments.

“Oh - that’s because -”

“You didn’t-”

“Ignis he could have  _ died _ \- what else is it for?”

No response. He crosses his arms, but doesn’t seem upset, more curious than anything. “Surprised you’re not exhausted - last time -”

“Yeah, yeah - Crowe was a big help,” Noctis looks at Nyx, looks at his arm, holds it close, doesn’t miss the way Prompto’s eyes light up at the interaction.

“If she’s not there next time?”

_ Next time.  _ “There won’t be a...I….”  _ Of course there will. _

Ignis nods knowingly. “I told you this was dangerous, remember? Glaive training is extremely dependant on King’s magic. Of course They would interfere.” he seems unreasonably annoyed at the  _ Them. _

“What should I do?” Noctis doesn’t mean to sound so terrified, voice cracking in an exhausted attempt at giving out.

Ignis is silent, thoughtful. “I don’t know.” 

Heavy silence deafens the four of them, none sure of what to say. How to comfort a King destined to lose? 

“It’s gunna be fine,” the glaive mutters. “It doesn’t matter what They try to do.”

“And you’re sure about that?” he doesn’t have to look up at Ignis to nod slowly. 

“I’ve been sure of it since day one.”

“Luna, too - she noticed something was different. Is it really our fault They’re like this?” Noctis tries. 

“Possible,” Ignis replies, not intending to cause as much guilt as he does.

“How is she, by the way?” Prompto chimes in. 

“I think fine, for the most part - wrote to her yesterday,” he smiles at the thought. “I think she was annoyed I didn’t tell her about you guys sooner, but she’s happy for you.”

Prompto grins, Ignis blushes slightly.

“Can I send some more pictures with you next time?”

Noct nods. “The ocean?”

“Maybe,” Prompto shrugs awkwardly. “But - I actually found this really cute dog the other day? I think she’d like to see it.”

Noctis laughs. “You’re probably right.”

The evening dwindles into still night, Prompto falling asleep against Ignis as he and Nyx continue talking about the Kingsglaive. Nyx tells him more than Noct had known previously, listening in silence as he speaks about various missions from months ago, other regions of Eos he had never heard about before. He talks about the daemons, a specific species that aims its claws at the heart. “Watch out for those if you’re ever near the waterfalls in Cleigne”, he adds, going on to speak of various stops, small towns littered between larger ones, people far from the Capital with little care of the war at all. They just wanted silence. 

Noctis dreads listening to the stories of the Niflheim war ships, small but menacing all the same, dropping lifeless soldiers to attack on unknowing prey. Nyx explains that’s his least favourite, the soldiers with glaring red eyes, brutal robotic sounds ripping from mechanical throats as they twitch and shake. Ignis looks as disgusted as Noct feels, Nyx used to the air of hatred that the Nifs wore. But so little real experience had anyone else had with them but him. 

Noctis eventually fades out of the conversation entirely, exhaustion finally claiming him as he leans against the glaive’s shoulder. He was thankful for his friends, and the safety they gave him; no longer questioning the glaive but instead welcoming him as best as they could. Noct could tell Ignis’ worry was still there, and he didn’t blame him;  _ the Gods don’t care about me or him or any of us, _ he thought bitterly as he fell slowly into sleep. Before he could completely, he was jolted awake by the sound of a porcelain mug  _ clink _ ing against the glass of the coffee table. 

“Dammit, Ignis, you did that on purpose,” he sits up, rubbing his eyes. 

He receives a sly grin in response. “What? Just setting it down,” he turns to Prompto, gently nudging him awake, greeting him with a light kiss on the forehead. 

Noct stands, moving to clear their mugs from the table. Before he can reach them, Ignis grabs for his hand.  _ Shit- _

“Please be more careful next time,” is all he says, studying the thin, lightning bolt marks running through his palm. 

“Will they go away?” Noct asks weakly. 

Ignis nods. “It’ll take a bit, but you’ll be fine.” He stands with Prompto, both making their way to leave.

Nyx stands behind the Prince, reaching for his hand to look at what he had done.  _ All I’m doing is hurting him- _

“It’s nothing, it doesn’t hurt, I promise,” Noct sees it. He leans up to kiss his glaive in reassurance, hearing a sleepy  _ “aww” _ from across the room. 

“Nevermind,” he says flatly to Prompto, who’s trying to hide a smile. 

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Ignis asks over his shoulder, fitting his jacket near the door.

“Not sure yet,”

“Training?”

“Probably.”

“What about Gladio?”

“Eh, I’ll get back to him eventually,” the Prince smiles. 

“ _ Be  _ careful,” Ignis stares at him, getting only a nod in response. 

“Hey, I’ll see ya later,” Prompto says sleepily to both of them. “Noct, we gotta hang out sometime,” another short nod. 

“Yeah,”

“Lovely to finally meet you properly, Nyx,” Ignis says as they step out the door. “Safety first,” he winks as he closes the door behind him, leaving the glaive without time to answer, but speechless either way. 

Noct stifles a laugh as the door closes, locking it behind them. “I’m so sorry,” he offers.

Nyx just smiles, warm and welcome, embracing the Prince like he hadn’t seen him in weeks. They kiss slow, memorizing the feeling of each other once again. 

“I hope that wasn’t too weird,” Noct pulls away, referring to the evening.

“No - it was nice to meet them,” he returns. “I was expecting them to - well - not like me very much,”

“Why?”

“Because of the state I left you in, because your gods hate me - causing danger to everything around you, I thought Ignis was going to want to kill me.” he almost shrugs, nothing but truth in his eyes. Noctis looks at him, confused.

“You said you weren’t nervous coming in here - why would -”

_ Because you think you deserve it. _

He kisses hard, fast, taking the glaive’s breath away. He forces away his exhaustion, determined and rough and relentless. Nyx answers in full, welcoming and warm and full of energy as he takes him in, leaning against the kitchen counter. He relives the glaive’s taste, wide awake and needing  _ more  _ as he continues, short on breath, gasping against his neck, kissing at hot skin, thoughts reeling.

“You had fun with me today, didn’t you,” Noct interrogates, biting at the familiar tattooed line that led to Nyx’s collarbone. “Teasing me in front of your glaives, knowing I couldn’t do anything, that’s just cruel.” 

“Could say the same to you,” he groans, thoughts too lost to continue as he works his hands beneath the Prince’s shirt, unwilling to wait any longer. 

But Noct pulls away, pleasure writ on his face. Nyx instinctively stands straight to get closer to him, arms locking around the Prince and kissing into his hair. He’s distracting, mind away in a dream, hardly noticing Noct place his hand upon the wound he had left earlier.

“Don’t think about it,” he warns with a soft voice.

“I’m not,” Noct drawls, his hand wandering to a familiar hip, beneath the glaive’s shirt, gripping into familiar skin. 

Nyx hums with pleasure, closes his eyes as he rests his face in the Prince’s hair. He cannot help but feel a hollow ache in his heart, remembering how, just weeks before, he had left Noctis here - he couldn’t know the deep ocean tears that wouldn’t stain the tile, a vision of sorrow and unbearable heartache.

Noct feels the glaive’s heart, feels his silence. “It’s okay,” 

“I know,” not a broken, but almost a grieving, voice.

“Nyx, what do I have to do to show you-” he’s almost annoyed. “I know it’s hard, I know being here is really weird but I don’t care,” he looks up at eyes of steel, his free hand brushing against his face. He kisses him once, a void of calm. His eyes are tired, lids heavy, “Nyx,” he starts. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

The glaive says nothing, kisses hard.  _ Take me,  _ “take me, your Highness,” he kisses again, breath ragged, moves to his neck, bites at beautiful skin. His hands make swift work of moving beneath his shirt, lifting it roughly, threatening to rip it from his body. 

“N-ny-x, fuck,” Noct gasps, voice weak. His hands are aimless, unable to reach his glaive as he’s falling to his knees before him.  _ Nyx - wh-  _

He kisses along the line of his hips, eyes closed in a focused calm. The touch feels like home, like a place he’d been a thousand times, forgetting it was all brand new. He registers shaking hands running through his hair, catching in thin braids, earning from the glaive a low growl.

Noct tries to apologize, unable to find the words as he stares at the ceiling, kitchen lights blaring in his tired eyes. “Hhhnnn,” he tries again. 

“Yes, baby,” Nyx stops, looking up at his Prince as if in worship. 

Noct takes his hands, tries to lift him from his position on the floor, but he’s trembling. Nyx stands reluctantly, ready to go farther, thrilled as Noct leads the way through his apartment. Moonlight decorates the otherwise dark bedroom, a welcoming cold that almost feels alien as the lovers step inside. 

Noct presses the glaive against the door as soon as it closes, kissing him blindly as his eyes adjust to the comfortable dark. He feels the glaive work his hands up his back, parting to remove his shirt, Noct welcoming the touch. He grinds his hips into the glaive, slamming him into the door. 

“Noctis,” he gasps, hands gripping into his back. 

“More,” he growls, kissing deep and fast, living off of the taste of the glaive in his mouth. He stands, tiptoed, unable to keep a steady pace for long, Nyx smirking in amusement, taking notice.

“You’re so cute,” Nyx starts, pushing him backward gently. His eyes shine reflecting moonlight, more silver than the Prince had ever seen. 

“Shh-ut up,” he tries, feeling his face redden. 

Nyx only proves his point, lifting the Prince off of his feet easily, arms around his waist.

“Hey, what’re you-” 

But he loses focus, air leaving his lungs as he’s thrown backward onto the bed. For a  moment he sees stars, pure and bright and burning in his eyes, expression lost in a spiral of bliss. He sees the glaive above him moments later, eyes teeming with pleasure. His hands are planted on either side of Noct’s head, holding firm into soft sheets, reminiscent of nothing but  _ his Prince. _ He’s pulled down into another kiss, softer and slow -

“Nyx,” 

“Yeah,” 

“What do you want?” he’s not sure how else to ask, blush settling across his cheek as the words come out.

Nyx is thoughtful, kisses the Prince’s neck, eliciting slow moans and quieter gasps. His thoughts wander to the previous nights, repeating what Noct had wanted -  _ begged  _ \- him for in breathless nervousness, reimagined in a steady calm.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, smirking as he feels a current of lightning run through the body below him.

“Wh- what?” Noct’s eyes are wide, his heart still in his chest.

“Lemme ride you,” he offers, nervous at the Prince’s reaction. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Noct loses his mind at the thought, voice deep and ragged.

“No?” he eases off, ready to pull away.

“What - yes,  _ yes,” _ pulling the glaive in to kiss him again, curious hands slipping beneath the waistband of his pants. 

“Nn-  _ impatient, are we? _ ” he teases in smooth, unfamiliar words. 

Noctis audibly cries at the sound,  _ want  _ turning deftly into  _ need _ as he's frantically trying to undress the glaive. “Right now,” he orders. 

In breathy laughter, the glaive helps the Prince complete his task, feeling cold, for a moment, in his nakedness. Beneath his hips Noct tries undressing himself, unsuccessful with a slight whine, a drawling moan as the glaive does the job for him. 

It doesn't take long for Nyx to start working the Prince in his hand, long, slow strokes to get him started. 

“Hnn, N-, Nyx,” he breathes in sharp gasps, hands gripped into the thighs that straddle him. 

“ _ So needy,” _ kissing his neck, wanting nothing but to tease him more.  

“Nyx, please,”

“ _ Noctis, _ ” more accented than before. “I want-”

“Nyx, nn-”

He growls into his neck, the salt on his skin greeting him like a revival(?); euphoria full in his chest and suffocating. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

A weak sound escapes the Prince’s throat, “ _ Please _ ,” he whimpers, “Nyx, come on,  _ please- _ ” the glaive can’t help but notice how good he looks begging.

Nyx starts slowly, settling himself onto the Prince with a deep sigh, back arching and head falling back in pure, honeyed bliss. Noct’s eyes are shot wide, unfocused, mouth open, a brutal moan tearing from his throat. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he stares down at the Prince, eyes heavy, voice rasping; this was nothing like the nightmares so often conceived, nothing like the eyes of his lover drowning in a sea of deep red, a deep crashing guilt that filled his chest as the wound beneath him would rip and tear apart, thrashing at his porcelain skin. No, truly this was something plucked from another world; the moonlight making their skin glow, the Prince no longer part of a hierarchy, taken from a sheltered bond of selfish gods and kings; now he was only part of  _ him _ , part of a glaive meant to live for nothing, breathing rapid, repeating whispers of a beautiful name he couldn’t translate. The searing scar he learned to love on himself, matching it to the ones he could find on his glaive, but looking up at him revealed so much more. Here was a fool, a lover, someone that cared for someone else so much that he would threaten the gods to  _ just try  _ and come between them. 

His eyes are full of shining stars, Nyx feeling like he knew every single constellation within, his heart alight with searing flame. Noctis grips hard into the glaive’s thighs, working with the rhythm he gives. He thrusts slow from the bed, losing himself in a feeling he could not describe.

“Nyx, you feel so good,” he tries. 

“I’m nothing compared to you,  _ little king _ ,” he hears above him, silver eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t recognize.

Noct wants to be angry, wants to fight his self-deprecating words, but feels his nerves tense, his heart freeze as the glaive picks up his pace.

He can feel himself getting close, bringing the glaive down with shaking hands on his shoulders. He tries to kiss him, broken moans escaping his mouth as Nyx takes control, arms on either side of him and suffocating him with affection. Noctis tries to find a sense of control but his mind goes blank, one hand gripped into the sheets above him, the other numbly working the glaive’s cock, too spaced out to hear his pleasure.

He comes full and fast, crying in broken breaths as Nyx rides him out with loving words he could barely register. He becomes too much to bear, tears welling in the corners of Noctis’ eyes, hands clawing at the sheets around him. His heart staggers, breaths shallow as the glaive moves off of him, gentle hands running through his hair, sweet whispers of Galahdian  _ nothings  _ near his ear. Noctis can only look at him through heavy lidded eyes, stumbling in his words as he threatens to drift off.

“You…” his brow furrows, frustrated he can’t find the rest of his words.

“Hm?”

“What about... _ you _ didn’t…,” he gestures to himself awkwardly, exhausted.

Nyx smiles at him, “don’t worry about it,” he assures.

Noctis ignores him, situating himself over the glaive as he kisses lightly across his chest. He elicits sighs, soft and sweet, doesn’t worry about the quiet  _ “no seriously, you’re fucking exhausted” _ ’s that the glaive mutters to him as he ventures lower, remembering the jumpy reaction he receives in return for the kisses across his ribcage. 

“Noctis,”

“Hmmn,” but the glaive can only answer him in slow gasps as the Prince kisses into the curve of his hips, revived off of the taste of his skin.

Nyx can’t help but feel anxious as he watches Noct kiss at his skin, kiss at misshapen scars with notes of care and gentle affection. He bites at his lower lip as the Prince moves between his legs, caressing his hips with calmer hands, sinking low to kiss softly at the inside of his thighs. He’s damning himself, breath catching in his lungs as Noctis takes the glaive into his mouth.

He tries not to let himself get overwhelmed at the feeling, cannot look at Noct for too long, the sight of his pretty lips wrapped around him in calm concentration, the sensation taking him quickly. 

There’s a sick thought at the edge of his mind, a cursing remark that makes the glaive almost wish the Prince’s gods were watching.

Noctis doesn’t stop, works at an even pace that kills the glaive slowly as he feels himself tense. There’s something he  _ wants _ , has wanted - to make a mess of his Prince, only dreaming of the sight of him with come dripping from his mouth, light in his eyes taken and well-spent. But there’s something he wants  _ more, _ the feeling of losing himself inside Noctis, making him beg and cry his name.

The thought instinctively causes him to push Noct away gently, a confused eyes and a hungrier expression greeting him. “Nyx…?”

“I need you-”

“But I was-?” he stops, seeing the expression crossing the glaive’s face. “ _ Oh- _ ” he’s pulled into a kiss, Nyx flipping him over and against the bed’s frame, his head hitting the wall.

“Shit, Noctis, sorry-”

“Nevermind,” he pulls him impossibly close, biting the glaive’s lip hard, earning a deep growl in response. He doesn’t mind the taste of himself in the Prince’s mouth, messily biting at his tongue as he fucks Noct into the mattress.

“H-ah, Nyx, Ny-x,  _ fuck, _ ” his eyes roll back, he sees stars unbelonging to him.

_ You see? _

He blinks rapidly, trying to rid the voice invading his mind while Nyx breathes against his neck.

_ Get out -  _

_ Is this broken love? _

_ No,  _ “beautiful,” he speaks aloud. The glaive hums satisfied, thrusting harder.

His panic is mistaken for pleasure, panting cries becoming welcomed, Nyx unable to see the glow of blue injected into the Prince’s eyes as he stares blindly in the dark.

_ You’re not in control of me anymore- _

_ He isn’t going to live _

It’s a haunting phrase, sticking itself into Noct’s mind despite the feeling of being carried further into a dream. Nyx is whispering into his ear in words he cannot understand, begs him for more.

“Nyx - I,”

“You’re all mine,” it isn’t a threat, isn’t a danger. And he knows it. 

“Yes,” his vision returns to normal, the light fades from his eyes. He places a trembling hand on the glaive’s wound, transferring energy through his hand before Nyx can do anything-

“Noctis,  _ don’t,”  _ he sounds angry, sounds terrified.

Noct doesn’t care. “But it feels good,” his eyes are tired but his heart is full, “doesn’t it, baby?”

Nyx’s breath stops at the name, he pulls away slightly to watch Noct hold his arm, a warm glow emitting from his hand, shedding light on them both.  _ It does feel good.  _

He continues his pace, new and violent energy filling him as the grip on his arm tightens. “It feels so good,” he growls, trying not to rip his arm away at the thought of Noctis’ hand, how damaged it had been. “I - I’m,”  _ close, so close. _

“More,” the Prince demands, exhausted on feeling so much at once, light in his palm fading.

“Noctis-” his name little more than a cry, coming undone and falling apart, Noct moaning as he feels overworked, tears spilling from his eyes, light flashing out of sight with a weakening flicker as his hand drops to the mattress.

Nyx pulls out of him, cold concern writ on his face despite trying to hide it. “Sweetheart,” his hands cupping Noct’s face, seeming almost lifeless. 

“I’m okay,” his voice is raw, reflecting the ache he felt everywhere else. 

They embrace, Noct unable to stop the sobs that rack his chest, Nyx kissing away at tears of pure, cascading love.

 

\---

 

Nyx lies awake long after the Prince had fallen asleep, staring blankly out into the cityscape the apartment so openly shared. He admired Insomnia at length, the shining lights below against but weaker than the moonlight that had so gently caressed the lovers before. 

 

_ Cannot lov- _

_ No. That’s too fucking bad. _

_ The Chosen - cannot - love -  _

_ Don’t tell me who I am. I know who I am. You don’t control me. _

_ Only made for us- meant to kill- _

“No,”  _ you don’t control me anymore. _

 

Nyx looks down at him, wondering if he were awake. When the Prince did not move, he returned his rest. 

 

_ You don’t control me anymore. You can’t. Not after what you did today. _

_ The useless will die- _

_ Don’t you  _ ever  _ call him that. I will kill you myself- _

_ A worthless threat -  _

_ I don’t care.  _

“I love him...so much….”

 

His voice is broken, a bit sad, but cemented in certainty. Nyx doesn’t blink, doesn’t let fresh tears spring to his eyes, focuses on how full his heart feels. He pulls Noctis closer, praying to nothing in pale hope that the gods would leave him alone. “The least you can do is let him sleep,” he says to no one. But the Prince lies still, doesn’t say more as slowly, the glaive falls asleep, emptied of self-doubt, feeling nothing but the welcome blur of sleep and relentless determination,  _ the gods won’t hurt him. I will kill them myself.  _

 

_ “Let him sleep.” _

_ Nyx? _

  
  


\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i hope that was worth the two month wait ;_; updates won't take this long again, i promise
> 
> \- please let me know what you thought!!


	16. Day 79

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Some flashback, recap stuff~ enjoy!

_ Darling sunshine,  _

_ Sweet embrace in silver eyes  _

_ Just as you do  _

_ It's so like you  _

 

_ Sweetheart can you hear the rain _

_ It takes shelter in my heart  _

_ You'll see it too _

_ It's so like you  _

 

_ \--- _

 

Autumn continued its slow descent onto Insomnia, a drudging cold becoming default, citizens emptying the streets for the sweeping grey. Veils of clouds hung around the Wall like an overcoat, occasionally letting the tired sun embrace the pale structure of the city. 

Days had bled into weeks, the Prince and glaive welcoming shorter training days in return for longer nights, spent close together more often than apart. Noctis found himself in love with the training grounds, in love with Crowe and the mages, in love with the broken, crumbling ruin of stone that so often surrounded him. He found himself amused even at the glaring suspicion that radiated from the other glaives.

_ What’s he so happy about? _

_ Why’s he here so often all of a sudden? _

Noctis didn’t mind them so much anymore. Admittedly, it was becoming more and more difficult to hide everything away when he spent most of his time with Nyx; it was hard not to smile at him, not to stumble every time he looked into the silver of his eyes. But what they could not share with the world they made up for with each other. Noct neglected the cold of his own apartment to spend most of his nights with his glaive, embracing sleep with gentle hands and becoming used to another’s warmth. 

Noct lay in the glaive’s bed, alone in the apartment as he waited for the other to get home. Thoughts ran through and repeated in his mind, memories of the past few weeks burning brightly. There were a few instances especially that he kept close in his mind and to his heart, and thought of them often.

 

\---

 

Just days after the training incident in which Noct sliced open the glaive’s arm, a similar situation occurred. Despite the settling chill the weather offered, training with the glaives continued, slowly getting back into warp strikes and the use of magic. Noct enjoyed the days spent with Crowe, adoring her artful way of handling magic, taking note that flames were her favourite kind. Noct found more and more glaives approaching him slowly, becoming used to his presence on the field. 

“You’re pretty good, kid,” one would tell him.

Noct looked at the cold dirt. “Oh - uhhm, thanks,” 

“What say you we spar a bit?”

Noct looks up. To his surprise, several glaives stand grinning at him.

“Uhh,” he can’t recognize any of them, but they don’t seem malicious, “yeah. Okay - why not?”

“Sweet!” he hears one say.

Noct laughed despite himself. “Go easy, alright? Six on one? Dunno about this,”

“Nah, don’t worry,” one chimed in. “Just wanna see what you’re made of, dude,”

“ _ Dude _ ? That’s the Prince, idiot!” another snaps. 

“Don’t - worry about that,” Noctis interrupts with another shy laugh. He receives surprised looks in return. “Seriously, it’s fine.” he brings forth his weapons to avoid further silence. 

In one swift movement Noct throws himself backward, giving himself room between the glaives. They take notice immediately, circling the Prince with seemingly threatening glances. But these glaives were looking for fun, yet hesitant to begin.  _ He is the Prince, afterall. _

Noct takes the signal, leaping forward at one unsuspecting soldier. He seemed new, shaky, and not much older than Noctis himself. He replied to the Prince’s attack with a yelp, just barely stumbling backward to avoid him. He draws his daggers quickly, steadying himself and allowing another glaive to jump in.

This one swings low, moves with bent knees and low to the ground. Noct finds it interesting, being so used to Nyx’s nimbler stance or Gladio’s statuesque movement. He has more trouble defending himself against this glaive, who laughs when Noct trips backward and rolls into the dust. He picks himself up quickly, letting his knives fly into blue dust, disappearing.

He instead draws his shortsword, something Nyx had rarely seen but what he was most accustomed to using. The glaives froze, raising their brow in question. “Is that allowed?”

“Why not? One hand, and hey - did you forget -  _ six of you guys? _ ” Noct breathes. They laugh, lighthearted. One shrugs before launching herself at the Prince. Her blades are crossed, almost mimicking a shield in hopes to disarm her opponent. But Noct is in his own element, smirking as he slices apart the blades and disarming the glaive instead. She stands, dumbfounded, before dashing out of the way to reclaim her knives. Noctis laughs. 

Two glaives strike at once, which the Prince has more trouble deflecting. One strikes low, a vertical block with his sword, the other strikes close to his elbow. Reacting, he shifts his stance, turning slightly so that the attacking glaives now face each other. Retreating his blade, he steps backward once, twice, arm outstretched and letting the steel of his sword extend his grasp. He’s observant as the two glaives warp toward him, reacts by warping the opposite way. He’d rarely warped with his sword, and to him it felt much more natural. One blade provided him with more care than two. 

He laughs as he lands near another glaive who’s readying a strike, shielding himself with the flat of his sword and pushing hard against the small blades striking at him. This glaive stands gruff and tall, taller than Nyx, the Prince considers. But he uses his own small stature to an advantage, ducking under the glaive’s elbow to swing at his back, stopping before he makes contact.  _ Gotcha.  _

 

On the sidelines, Nyx sits on broken stone alongside Crowe and Libertus, who stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a crushed pillar with a smirk on his face. 

“He’s really improved,” Crowe offers to Nyx with a smile, rolling her eyes at the  _ tch  _ she hears from the other. 

“Yeah,” Nyx tries to ignore it. He’s in love with the way the Prince laughs as he spars with the glaives. He hadn’t expected them -  _ most  _ of them - to take such a liking to him. His eyes brighten, his heart beats faster at the sight of ghostly blue silhouettes left behind as Noctis strikes himself into the air, voice songlike in victory. 

_ “I win!”  _ he stands far away but his voice is loud, echoing from the pillar on which he stands. The glaives below laugh at him. “Not when you get back down here, you don’t!”

Nyx laughs despite himself, earning a glare from Libertus. Crowe can feel the tension, scowling as she looks up at the glaive nearest her. “Why don’t you take him on?” she leans toward the field.

“Nah, don’t think so,” Libertus answers shortly. 

Nyx rolls his eyes, stands as the rest of the glaives take notice of him and disperse. He draws his kukris, hands shaking for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. He looks up at his Prince, notes how the greyed out sun still casts a halo around him as he stands triumphant on the pillar of stone.

Noct is grinning as he stares down at the glaive. “A new challenger, eh?”

Nyx stifles a laugh. “Don’t even try it,” 

But with a flash of blue washed out by grey skies, Noct is clashing with his glaive, blades ringing out. He’s taken by surprise but blocks the strike, sending Noct stumbling backward.

Everyone watches in wait.

Noct can feel something in his mind that threatens to pull him into stasis. This feeling hadn’t been there minutes ago, fighting six glaives. And now, fighting  _ just one _ , something stirred in his chest.

_ Not you. _

He pushes hard against the threat, focusing on the duel. He hears his steps in the dirt, feels how cold the air is on his skin. Takes note of the air cutting into his lungs. He meets Nyx again, their blades meeting each other like a dance, arms wide and apart. Noct smiles, it’s worried and genuine but the glaive misses it as he tries to strike low at his waist. The Prince barely deflects it, staggering hard to the left. 

“Damn it,” he laughs it off.

“Don’t get used to your winning streak just yet,” Nyx teases. He wants to hate it. 

Fire was alive in his heart. 

Terror sparked like lightning.

_ Why do you depend so strongly on fools? _

Noct scowls.  _ I could say the same for you,  _ he challenges. He knows what’s coming, what’s threatening at the edge.

_ So why Nyx, huh?  _ He challenges further.

A grumble echoes. He was unfamiliar to that. 

_ Does he scare you?  _

Deep, rolling laughter. He barely registers the kukri that nearly grazes his wrist, but dashes out of the way in time. 

“You think he’s not worth it,” he doesn’t realize his voice is breaking. Nyx stops, taking note immediately. 

He notes the change in his eyes, how his limbs begin to shake.

_ He’s not going to live- _

_ Yeah, you mentioned earlier. Guess what? Neither am I. No one is.  _

Rolling laughter again. 

_ Fools falling in love with fools - how laughable this world is. _

“Laughable?” his voice comes in a growl.  _ Then why do you care about it so much? _

No response. 

The world began to fade.

 

\---

 

Nyx stands in fear, seizing Noctis by the shoulders and shaking him hard. “Noctis - what’s gotten into you? What’s happening?” but the question is worthless - he knows.

“Noctis - hey, hey - let go of the knives okay? Let’s sit down.” he tries to take hold of him but an unseen strength rips him away. 

“Noctis-”

But Noctis cannot hear anything, can’t even see the glaive as he pins him against a stone pillar. His eyes stare deep into Nyx’s; the glaive horrified at what he sees.

“N-Noctis, please,” he doesn’t know this strength. His hands are locked hard around the wrists that hold the blades very close to the glaive’s neck. He can’t push him off. It’s not him.

“ _ Noctis, please, _ ” he tries, voice broken.  _ This is it, isn’t it?  _ “You have to hear me, please,” he glances over at Crowe and the rest of the glaives. Most had gone, but a handful remained.

“Guys - please -” his voice raised, strength waning. “It’s not him - he’s going to kill me -”

Crowe sees it, running over with Libertus shortly behind.

_ Nothing but a fool.  _ Nyx hears it, too. The voice emanates from a deep void, channeled through wide, empty eyes of the Prince. 

He cannot hold the Prince away much longer. 

“Noctis -  _ please  _ \- you have to stop, you can’t let them do this to you - you’re stronger than this!”

But he can feel steel on his skin, white hot line settling into his neck.

“Noctis, I -”

\---

 

_ Where am I? _

_ Where is Nyx?  _

_ “Noctis, please! Stop - Noc-” _

_ The void is all that surrounds him, a horrible emptiness filling his gut.  _

_ We were fighting - we - oh fuck no - _

_ A deep, trembling laughter echoes.  _

 

_ “No!” _

_ “No you can’t do this!” _

_ “Don’t make me kill him!” _

 

Before there’s more, there’s Nyx, horrified, staring down at him with a line of deep red near his jaw. The sight is torn violently from him as he’s pulled away and slammed to the ground, the world turning black.

“What the  _ FUCK  _ is your problem!?” Noct recognizes it as Libertus, air knocked from his lungs as he opens his eyes, slowly taking in the view.

Libertus stands above the Prince, hands rolled hard into fists as his face contorts in terrified anger. Noct can feel tears escape as he blinks hard, looking around to find Crowe’s hand on Nyx’s neck, warm light radiating from her palm. Her eyes are wide and so are his, he’s still staring down at the Prince in a way Noct wishes he could forget. He leans against the stone pillar, breath ragged and trying not to panic. 

“You coulda fucking killed him!” he feels a blunt kick into his ribs.  _ Okay, guess I deserved that.  _ He still instinctively reacts, shaking hand reaching for his side. 

Nyx doesn’t miss it, nearly throwing Crowe off of him as he lunges forward. 

“The fuck did you do that to him for?!” he’s got Libertus by the collar, but Noct is straining to see. Crowe kneels next to him, eyes full of fear. She knew what had happened to him. 

Libertus did not. He stared incredulously at Nyx in return, “you’d be dead if I hadn’t torn him off you!”

“He couldn’t help it!” Noct had never heard his voice rise like that before. Had he ever heard him so angry? He can’t recall. 

“Couldn’t help it? Where was that shit when he was fightin’ six of ‘em not ten fucking minutes ago?”

“This is different,”

“Oh yeah, different how?”

“Nevermind! He’s got it under control!” Nyx’s expression is dark, eyes burning in a way that left his Prince feeling terrified.

“ _ That  _ was under control? Fucking killing you was under control, right, okay.” He shrugs himself out of Nyx’s grip, scowling. He stares at Noct, smirking at the sight of the lines of tears from his eyes. “Fucking wimp. So this is how you treat your boyfriend, huh?” 

Noct winces, turning his face away. 

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up,” Nyx seethes. “Get the fuck out of here.” 

Libertus’ glance narrows as he stares at the other three. Shaking his head, he turns and leaves without another word. Remaining glaives stare wide eyed at the scene. They turn to Libertus, following him out of the grounds. 

Nyx still stands, watching him go. He turns back to face Crowe and the Prince, who now lie in her lap, pale as moonlight, sickly and shaking. 

He kneels before them, not knowing what to say. He takes Noctis’ hands in his own, gripping them tightly, shocked at how cold he was. 

Crowe glances at the glaive, and in naught more than a breaking whisper, “I’ll explain things to him later,” referring to the departed glaive. 

Nyx just shakes his head. “Why does he…? He didn’t need to do that,” 

Crowe’s eyes shine. “Nyx, he was right. You’d be dead if-”

“No...I know - but...he didn’t...need to do that,” his voice weakens, moving one of his hands to the low point of Noct’s ribcage. 

“He doesn’t know,” but she’s terrified to justify it, doesn’t want to. 

“I don’t care.” he studies Noct’s face, eyes half open, struggling to keep consciousness, tear lines escaping the corners of his eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” Nyx’s voice softens as he runs a hand gently across his brow. 

Noct looks up at him. His lip trembles, he cannot speak. His eyes are filled to the brim with guilt and pain. He simply shakes his head at the glaive.  _ No. Don’t call me that.  _

“I know that wasn’t you,” Nyx offers, trying to make his voice calm. 

He can only shake his head again. He can’t say the words he needs to.

_ I would have killed you. You’d be dead right now. I would have- _

A choked sob escapes him, rips his hands free of the glaive’s to cover his face. 

Nyx seizes him from the mage’s lap, supports him in a tight embrace. Noct is too exhausted to push himself away, only weakly sobs into his neck. Only Crowe can see the pained look on the glaive’s face.

“I know, baby, I know,” he stares into the sky, trying to dismiss the tears in his eyes. “I know you’re terrified.” 

“Nyx,” Crowe starts quietly. “You can’t risk this happening again.” 

He nods over the Prince’s shoulder. “I know.”

She wants to say more but she can’t, only lifting a hand to place upon the Prince’s back, gentle and reassuring. 

Noct slowly relaxes after a few moments, but cannot stop himself from shaking, so exhausted. He pulls away, but cannot look at the glaive. 

“Are you okay to walk?” he hears Nyx ask. He nods sullenly. 

Nyx looks at Crowe. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I’m gunna take him home.”

_ Home?  _

She nods with a worried glance. 

Nyx supports him as they walk to his apartment. They make their way through back alleys and darkness, no words coming to either of them. Noct is confused at the sight of the glaive’s apartment, tells himself he shouldn’t feel so cosy and at home, but appreciates not having to spend this night alone.

It isn’t until much later Noct breaks the silence, unable to find sleep and shaking with sobs into the glaive’s blankets as he holds them close to his chest. He tries to be silent, sitting up in bed with the glaive asleep next to him. But Nyx is running hands along his back, longs to soothe the guilt but knows he can’t. He pauses to sit up, tries to bring Noct closer. But he manages to push himself away this time. 

“I can’t-”

“Noctis,”

“I - I saw - how - how you looked at me -” he starts. “I was gunna - gunna k- k - I was gunna kill you,” he finally manages, and it’s like a wave crashing as he sobs hard, head resting on his knees. 

“That wasn’t you,” the glaive mumbles.

“It was enough of me,”

“What did you see? Could you see me then?”

“No - I - it was like I was dreaming,” he catches his breath. “It was - just - just void, and, and nothing - I didn’t know what happened to you - I thought - I had,  _ fuck, _ ” he cries harder, finding it more and more difficult to breathe. 

“Noctis, it wasn’t you,” Nyx is firm but gentle in his movements, seizing the Prince by the shoulders and staring into his bloodshot eyes. 

He doesn’t answer, only lifts a hand to trace along a new scar left along the glaive’s jaw. Not enough to kill. But enough to leave a burning reminder. 

“Don’t,” Nyx starts. He doesn’t react to the touch, it was never painful - but the look on the Prince’s face is more than he can handle. 

“I did this - I'm so sorry,” he manages in a whisper, breaking eye contact as he tries to turn away. 

“Noctis,” 

“All I'm doing is hurting you,” he sobs. “All I'm, all I can do - is - is -” 

“Listen to me.” a gentle hand turns his face back to the glaive. He'd never felt more ashamed in his life. “Look at you. They're tearing you up. But you're stronger than Them-” 

“No -” 

“If they had total control over you I'd be dead in seconds. That wasn't you, but you were fighting in there. Look at you,” he repeats, a small smile lifting his face. He cups the Prince's face in his hands, “look how strong you are.”

“I still hurt you,” 

“That?” gesturing to his neck, “I didn't even feel that. Just a scratch,” he tries. 

Noct just looks at him, not sure how else to tell him that  _ no, Nyx, I'm not strong - I was this close to killing you. That's not- _

But his train of thought is broken by a gentle touch, a soft kiss that brings him back.  _ I'm gunna take him home. Home. Home. Home.  _

Noct pulls away to look at him. “I'm not - I don't deserve you,” 

“I love you,” Nyx ignores him. 

“No, Nyx, I'm -” another kiss, deeper. 

“ _ I love you,”  _ he kisses him again, pinning him softly to the mattress. “ _ I love you,”  _ he kisses tears away. 

He controls the night, whispering a few sweet words, holding the other close. A thought digs at his mind that he refuses to address.

“Noctis,” he reaches for his hand in the dark, knowing he still lie awake. Moonlight colours him pale again, gentle unrest blanketed with deep shadow.

“Hmm,” 

“I was terrified of you,” feels the sting as Noct instinctively shudders at the statement, but he grips him harder. He struggles to continue, “maybe I still am. But there’s so much more to you than this -” Noct turns to face him, dark eyes shining. “I can deal with all of this, because I l -”

“Nyx. Dying isn’t...dealing with something. Dealing with something about somebody is like, ‘oh, they talk too loud, but that’s fine’ or ‘they can get a bit distant sometimes but I get it,’ it’s not, ‘hey, his gods and kings make him try to kill me and it’s happened more than once, and, ha ha, he sure got close this time!’” his voice is flat and sad. He holds himself together by focusing on the way their fingers intertwine on the sheets.

Nyx smiles despite himself. “Is it better for us to be alone,  _ little one _ ?” even posing the thought breaks his heart.

“It’s better than killing you,” 

“Hmm,” he considers. 

“What?”

“I’m not so sure it is -”

“Nyx, come  _ on, _ ”  _ now’s not the time for this.  _ “You’re really gunna joke about this?”

“No,” sincere. Then, “I mean it.”

Noct pulls his hand away, says nothing. He wants to feel angry, but the guilt runs too deep. 

They’re silent for a while.

Nyx pieces together a mess of thoughts that have swept themselves in over the course of the day. He’s quiet, staring at the ceiling, imagining words being writ across in pale blue light.  _ Godly light,  _ he smirks to himself. 

“Everything I knew was a lot different when I was a kid. I had a home, I had people around me that knew me for more than one thing. One of the merchants knew the beads I braided into my - and my sister’s - hair. Another would get pissed off at me for running around too fast.  _ You’re going to break things, slow down,  _ he’d say” Nyx repeated the words he knew in familiar Galahd. “ _ Why don’t you watch where you’re going,  _ he’d often yell. I’d laugh. I didn’t care - everything felt easy. My sister and I would run into the valley - it sort of led off the lower cliffs in Galahd -” he motions landscapes with his hands, not even knowing if Noct was awake listening, “and we’d hunt - not for animals, not really - but for things left behind. Stones. Weapons. All left in the valley from some old war. We never really found much. But it gave us time,” he stops, blinking hard. “Anyway. Things are different now. I grew to lose the parts of myself that were left laughing and carefree out there. He’s lost in that valley somewhere. 

‘Now it’s me and the Kingsglaive. Me and Insomnia, but I’d never really belong here if I tried. But I don’t care about that. I was given a new purpose and that was it.  _ The King saved your ass and now you’re stuck here _ , and that’s that. That’s all I live for now. And if - if I died for the King in some way, then fine. Job’s done.”

“ _ Nyx _ , come  _ ON, _ ” Noctis angry at both of them. 

“Let me - just listen. Fine, right? But it’s not. I want to deal with this, with the danger of your gods because of you - being with you makes me remember the time I spent alive, the time I lived at  _ home  _ with people I knew and people that knew me. There’s so much more to you than ancestry, and I don’t know what they have against me but fine, I can deal with that. It’s not that I don’t care about it, because goddamn, it was terrifying - but it’s that I want to help you get through this. And if I get hurt trying, I’m up for it. I’m not gunna be scared away.”

“Why?” the voice is weak.

He turns on his side, facing the Prince. “Because,” he reaches for cold hands again, “Being with you feels like home. I never thought in my life I’d feel like that again. The mornings I wake up to you - there’s no empty feeling there. There’s no dread of what I need to face today because it starts with you -” he stops, smiling at the way Noct hides his face. “I would trade a hundred deaths to feel like this. Trying to spend those weeks alone after feeling that  _ was  _ like that world was taken away again. Over. Dark, and empty.”

He falls silent. Brings Noct’s hand closer to kiss it. 

Noctis isn’t sure what he can say. He touches at the fresh mark on the glaive’s neck. Just enough to open the skin. “I won’t wanna hurt you again,” is all he can manage.

He smiles. “Then don’t fight me anymore. I saw you out there today. You’ve learned so much, you don’t need me to keep fighting with.”

“I’ll miss it,” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he caresses the Prince’s face in his hand. “But,”

“Hmm?”

“I can still love you like this,” he grins, bringing Noct close to kiss slow and deep. “Can’t I?” 

Noct wants more, doesn’t want to stop - but his mind trails to a few weeks earlier. “Y- Uhh - yeah,” he tries to kiss him again but the glaive pulls away, suspicious.

“What is it?”

With a sigh, he retells what had happened before - but had not happened since. “...I started using healing magic on your arm because it was the only thing I could think of doing to distract Them,” his gaze falls to the side. “I didn’t want to ruin  _ that _ for you, too-”

“Ruin-? Noct, how could - dammit,” he sighs. “You were probably terrified, I was probably hurting you-”

“No - no, it’s okay. I was more...pissed off, than anything,” he laughs, embarrassed. “They had no right - that stuff’s for me and you.”

“Mmmn,” Nyx comes in close again, kissing along the Prince’s neck. “Just me and you, hmm,” he nips at his skin. “I like that,”

“Yeah?” Noct smiles, arms around the glaive’s neck. He looks up at him with sad eyes despite how  _ loved  _ he felt. He embraces his guilt in the midst of their shared pleasure, gasping the glaive’s name beneath moonlight and knowing his words had been spoken in truth.  _ Being with you feels like home.  _ He felt it too. Through his loneliness and never being sure where or what he was supposed to be, being at the glaive’s side was effortless. He accepts the pain with open arms, knowing what he could have done, what  _ could have  _ been but isn’t. The gods may look upon their children and sigh, but the Prince was determined to make them pay for every word.

 

\---

 

They had decided it was best for Noct to leave, returning to train with Gladio. The Shield seemed pleased about it, likely tired of training young guards who were clueless with a blade. Noctis felt a sting in his heart on the first day, thankful that Gladio took it easy on him.

Broadsword training was always slow in comparison to kukris; Noct was thankful for the slower pace for once. He measured his steps, his force, and the absence of Gods. It was infuriating.

But he was thankful; as the days progressed the Prince found that his mind was left alone. Even so, nearly every night was spent at the glaive’s side, soft love embracing softer hearts. They missed each other during the day, letting themselves talk well into the night more often than not. 

Noct sat within the Citadel’s inner training room, a long, empty hall dim in its light but overwhelming in its presence. Gladio was out, the day over sooner than expected, and it was barely the middle of the afternoon. He fidgets with his phone, debating on whether he could talk to the glaive or not. He shrugs.

 

_ [Boooooored.] _

 

_ [...] _

_ [this is a work phone - u must have the wrong number] _

 

Noct smirks at the screen.

_ [Yeah, whatever[ _

 

_ [What’s up?] _

 

_ [done early - gladio had 2 go somewhere] _

 

_ [u still here?] _

 

_ [for now, yeah] _

_ [how’s ur day going] _

 

_ [Fine - meeting with the Capt. after. Will be home later.] _

 

_ [Home, huh?] _

 

_ [oh.] _

_ [I just figured - I guess that does sound weird] _

_ [shit] _

 

He laughs again, his voice echoing the empty hall.

_ [no its ok] _

 

A few minutes pass. Noct leans back on the step, facing the decorated ceiling, eyes wandering the room, letting the natural light fill the air like a cathedral.

 

His phone startles him with a  _ bzzt-  _ on the marble step. 

 

_ [are u coming over tonight though] _

 

_ [do u want me] _

_ [do you want me to?] _

 

He blushes hard at the screen, cursing his shaking hands. 

 

_ [yes and yes] _

 

_ [idiot] _

 

_ [rude!] _

 

He smiles to himself, able to feel the glaive’s teasing smirk. With a last glance at the towering room, he departs for  _ home  _ again.

 

\---

 

Later, the Prince and his glaive lie interlinked beneath blanketed warmth. Noctis sleepily traces scars across the glaive’s chest, occasionally leaning in to kiss at one. 

Nyx hums softly. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” Noct notes between kisses. 

“Yeah,”

“Everything okay?” he pulls away to get a look at him. 

“Hmm, I mean, yeah,”

“Nyx?”

“I’m getting sent out on recon in a few days.” he glances at the Prince only shortly, quickly glancing away.

_ Oh.  _ His heart falls. “Oh. Dammit.” 

A shrug in return. “It won’t be so bad.”

“No? Liede again?”

He shakes his head. “No, thank god - farther though.”

“Hmm,”

A kiss at his forehead. “I’ll miss you,  _ little king, _ ”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Shouldn’t be more than a week. It’s mostly the drive.”

“Uhhhggh, a week - noooo,” his voice is muffled as he buries his face in Nyx’s chest again. The glaive laughs.

“You’ll be fine,”

“Will you? Could be dangerous out there,” somewhere in the back of his mind, Noct recalls what Gladio had told him weeks and weeks before.  _ It’s tough...you’re both fighters - there’s always a chance of losing one another.  _

“Please - I’ll be fine,” he smiles lightly. “Might get a few new scars you can kiss at, if I’m so lucky.”

Embarrassed, the Prince pulls away again. “Sorry,”

“Don’t be, it’s nice.”

Noct continues, thoughts taking him under. “I miss training with you. How are the rest of the glaives?”

“The usual. They wonder where you are.”

“Do they know -?”

“This? I don’t think so. But I did tell a few about what happened. They needed to know you didn’t want to hurt me.”

“Do you think they’re suspicious of something going on,” Noct thinks aloud. 

“Oh yeah,” he teases. “I doubt they’d ever voice any of it. I don’t think they care that much, if I’m honest.”

“They seem pretty nice,” Noct offers. “For...the most part.”

“They like you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What  _ did  _ you think when you first found out you were gunna have to train me? I know I’ve asked before, but,”

“You wanna know the truth?” Nyx grins.

“Go on,”

“Dreaded the thought. Crowe told me not two minutes before you arrived. Couldn’t believe it.”

Noctis laughs. “Really? They didn’t tell you sooner?”

“Not the ‘you’ part. I knew I’d be training someone, just...yeah. What did  _ you  _ think,  _ little one? _ When you first saw me?”

Noctis blushes hard. “Nervous as hell.” 

“You? Really?” he teases, kissing into his hair. 

“Didn’t know what to expect. I heard a lot about the glaives, that you guys are the best of the best, know all sorts of cool stuff. I  _ did not  _ expect  _ you. _ ” he pokes him hard near his collarbone.

“Oh no?” 

“I got to the field on that first day and I couldn’t fucking believe it. No ‘weathered soldier’ looks that good. Come on,” he chuckles. 

“Noctis, you’re embarrassing me,” the glaive says softly. 

“I was so awkward around you. And I acted like such an ass,”

“Hm? You weren’t so bad,” he laughs.

Noct pulls away to display his chest, scar still jagged, but more faded than it had been some time ago. Nyx winces slightly. 

“I think of that day a lot.”

“Me too.”

Noct is thoughtful. “Y’know...thinking back...I wish I just sat up on the stone with you there. The sun setting under the Wall. I could have looked at you forever up there. I wouldn’t have done all this,” gesturing to his chest, “I don’t hate the scar. I did, but I’ve grown to kind of...I dunno, appreciate it? Makes no sense. But,” he continues, “What if I had just turned around? And listened to you?”

“I would have taken you right there.” the glaive blurts out. 

Noct’s eyes widen slightly. “Guess I really fucked that one up,” but the thought makes him laugh. Nyx laughs, too. 

His mind wanders to the night. He turns slightly to gaze outside, the stars showered against pale black.

“Nyx,”

“Yeah,”

“Are you tired?”

 

\---

 

It was well past midnight. Here, beneath the stars, Noct shivered upon the stone, once washed in evening sun, now like ice. They had dressed in whatever sweaters the glaive had lying around, Noct embarrassed at how comical he looked with some of the clothing falling to his knees. The warp to the pillar was easier than it was that day, both Prince and glaive remembering which one it had been. 

They snuck onto the Citadel’s grounds, both Noct and Nyx knowing secret ways inside without alerting anyone. The training field was deeply haunting in the midst of night, nothing but starlight and a sliver of the moon reflecting upon impossibly pale ruins of rock. Noct stands at the edge, like he had so many days before. He looks out into the impossible dark, adoration full on his face. 

“You can see so much from up here,” he recalls, new life being breathed into Insomnia in the form of billions of lights. The cityline reflected unto the Wall, fractals reflecting in shimmering waves the multitude of what it kept inside. 

Nyx watched him, sitting on the pillar. He felt, as he had then, a nervous, anxious ache catching in his throat. His hands were shaking, not from cold. 

“Nyx.” the sound makes his heart stop all over again.

“Hm?”

He notes how Noct is shaking too, nervous and probably freezing. 

A shakier laugh. He sits next to the glaive, leans close. “Thank you,”

“For what?” 

Noctis kisses him hard, pinning the glaive to the stone without much of a fight. He can feel the hushed moan through the kiss, tongue deep in his mouth and forgetting how to breathe. He slows down, lying on his glaive to stop himself from shaking. 

“ _ Fuck,  _ it’s cold out here,” he laughs, pulling away. He adjusts, lying next to the glaive and hiding his face in his neck.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry to tell you this,” he says at flatly as possible, “it’s wintertime.”

“What do you have against the winter?”

“Nothing -” he lies.

“It’s so cozy,” Noct offers.

“Yeah? You feeling pretty cozy right now?”

“This is different,” he smiles.

They watch the stars as best as they can through the glowing rift of the Wall. Noct is amazed, mouth open slightly at the sight of endless lights filling the deep night. “Was…” he tries. “Was it like this...in Liede?”

“Pretty close. No city lights to blur them out, but, I think I prefer this,” he wraps his arms around his Prince, never having felt so calm in his life. 

The night is quiet, apart from distant cars on the busier streets. Nyx doesn’t hear them, only watches the stars and focuses on the slow breathing against his neck. 

“Do you know any of their names?” Nyx says after awhile. 

“Who?”

“The stars,” 

He turns his attention to the sky, focusing on the spaces he would know. “Oh - okay, there’s Ramuh, there,” he extends his arm upward and slightly to the right. He points out three, four brighter stars that create the shape of the deity’s face. “And there, his lightning bolt, I guess,” he shrugs against the stone, drawing a line of where the shape would appear.

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Nyx squints a bit, but can’t see anything but stars. 

“Well yeah, you gotta imagine it a little,” Noct continues. “Oh, over here,” he lifts Nyx’s hand with his own, points lower to the left this time. “The Rogue, over there. You can see her shuriken in there.” he tries to draw a line with their hands to little avail, causing the glaive to laugh. It’s songlike.

But his words cut a bit deeper. “These gods and kings,” he starts, watching the stars as if they would answer. “Why would they do this to you? Can’t They see us, now?” he hopes the words, in some way, would work as a prayer. 

Noct just sighs. “I’m not sure.” Nyx kisses him on the forehead, bringing the smile back to his face. 

“Nyx,” his voice is inquiring, thoughtful.

“Yes?”

His expression saddens as he hides his face again, thinking of the days to come. He reminded himself, however, of  _ all  _ the days to come and all the days that had gone. Life, despite everything, was beautiful.

“Can I stay at your place while you’re gone?”

His brow arches, finding the question more amusing than anything.  _ Why would you want-?  _ “Of course,  _ little king. _ ” 

The stars begin their descent into slumber as the Prince and his glaive make their way home, chilled from the coming winter but hearts alight with bright flame. Noct finds himself feeling more alive than he ever had, memory of the scar upon his chest renewed with brighter purpose; they were  _ alive _ ; they shared a joy which no other could understand. 

_ Feels like home.  _

 

_ \--- _

 

_ The blood in my veins _

_ Is so much sweeter in your hands _

_ Like stone _

_ Dear, sweet eyes _

 

_ Will you hold me _

_ When the moon crumbles _

_ And all that’s left _

_ The sweet silver in your eyes -  _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think ;A; 
> 
> \- will they ever catch a break?? don't ask me~


	17. Day 90

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission with the Kingsglaive goes awry; Noct doesn't know what to do with himself when Nyx is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- oh god i keep disappearing uni is very busy i promise the updates will be more frequent after November ;_;

\---

 

_And on the longest night,_

_Dear one, falling -_

 

It’s unspeakably cold in the apartment. He reaches for someone but he isn’t there. “Hmm,” still asleep, a worried sound escapes him.

 

_For the stars_

_Held me closer than you ever could -_

 

“Goodmorning, dear light,” he hears. The voice feels too distant but it’s still his glaive.

“Mmnn,” he blindly stretches his arms from beneath the blankets, reaching for warmer hands.

Blunt footsteps find their way across the room, he can feel the mattress shift with weight. A gloved hand finds his own.

“Nnn,” he tries, voice cracking. “No,” he grips into cold, worn leather despite himself.

Warm, quiet laughter. “ _Angel heart,_ you know I have to leave soon,” the tone seems a little bit sad. He kisses into tufts of messy black hair, hums softly as the Prince manages to wrap his tired arms around him.

“I know-mn,” he whines. The glaive leans in to kiss slow at his neck. The Prince can feel Kingsglaive chains cold against his chest, running his hand through them lazily. He still does not open his eyes, feeling so wonderfully dreamlike.

 

_And once there were lights_

_Brighter than They_

_A thousand miles away-_

 

“Mmn, I want you,” his words are slurred with sleep.

Breathy laughter echoes near his ear. “Sweetheart,” pulls away slowly, “ _don’t tempt me._ I have to go.”

The Prince smiles. “When you get back, then,” he warns with a sleepy growl.

“Is that a promise?” mind on fire.

“Yeah,” still dreaming.

Their kisses are slow, each trying to hold on to the feeling, to memorize it until they’d meet again.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, finally opening his tired, ocean eyes. The waters are still beneath them, entranced and threatening beautiful dreams.

“Me too - but,” between kisses, “it won’t be long. You make yourself at home, okay?”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement.

“I love you so much,” a gentler kiss on his forehead. “I’ll try to keep in touch while I’m gone - not sure how service is out there, but -” his words end in lighter kisses again.

“Be safe,” a gentle hand caressing a tired face, worried eyes staring deep into silver grey.

“Don’t worry,” a smile, almost amused. “Go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be back before you know it,” one more kiss before he stands.

“I love you,” he says as he’s drifting off, can’t even hear the words nor the click of the door as it locks behind him.

 

_Singing as they’re crumbling to ash -_

 

_\---_

  


_“Watch the fuck out!”_

He jumps low, narrowly missing a slice to his neck. The beast leaps above him, snarling with a wide open jaw. It lands spinning on its back legs, dust trailing after overgrown claws. Dragging itself through the dirt, it turns around, ugly mouth hanging open wide, rows of teeth bleeding with black air.

_Come and get me._

The glaive sets aside his near-death panic, glares at the daemon who leapt at him. Before he can lift his kukris the beast lashes forward; Nyx throws a fractal shield in front of himself, gloved hand shaking. The daemon knocks hard against the Wall-like structure, collapsing to the ground and giving the glaive time to pierce it through the chest with both blades.

“Piece of shit,” he snarls through clenched teeth.

“Careful next time,” he hears nearby. Libertus stands hooded, his voice not menacing.

The glaive nods shortly, doesn’t offer much of a reply. _What else would you have done to him if I didn’t stop you?_ He shakes his head, pushes the thought away and continues to the small swarm of daemons approaching.

They vary in form, a few taking to the skies with ragged, stretched wings made of rotted flesh. They swoop sharply at the mages, who counter with swift sparks of lightning and frozen air. Nyx braces himself for the next round of dog-like creatures; they’re a lot faster than he, running in zigzaged lines and clawing violently at the cold ground. He handles them with ease, for the most part. The trouble is handling more than one at a time. He’s thankful for Libertus’ aide, alongside two other glaives; all adept in warp strikes, they’ve managed to take down what feels like troves of daemons over the last few days.

But it was time to return home. The last swarm approached just as they were loading the trucks back to Insomnia, pissing off the group of glaives who were long tired from the ten day mission. Nyx longed to return, with luck they would be back by nightfall.

And Noct would be there.

He sighs inwardly, unable to shift his thoughts from the Prince. He hadn’t spent this much time away from him since the long, heartbreaking weeks he spent alone. And he could almost feel the ache return, a deep, empty sorrow that held tight around his heart. He thinks of the way the blue of his eyes would freeze him in his steps, or how the lightness of his smirk would lift his lips slightly, making the glaive’s heart leap into his throat. All he can recall amidst the barren plain are the soft touches shared between sleep and awake, the gentle dreams seeping into quiet mornings greeted with softer kisses -

_“Nyx!”_

He spins wildly out of his thoughts, jolted into reality by a bite around his arm. He’s dragged through the dirt before slashing hard at the beast’s hold, escaping injury with slight marks in his coat. He curses himself for getting distracted, takes it out on the daemon now beneath him.

Libertus catches up. “Get your head outta the clouds, man,” he offers, stern but friendly. Trying.

Another nod. “Yeah, sorry.”

They watch along the emptying plain, the storm of daemons receding into a darkening horizon. They waste no time in deciding that _finally_ , it’s time to leave. The thought of a crowded Insomnia had never felt so welcoming to the glaive; he could do with the crowded streets, the cold apartment, the dark alleys and overpowering city lights if it meant returning to the Prince at last.

 

\----

  


“Watch out!”

A hand smacks the back of his shoulder. He growls, annoyed. A plastic gun in his hand is tethered to a machine, flashing LEDs colouring his eyes in reflections of neon pink and blue. An obnoxious trigger _clicks_ fakely as he takes his last stand, an attempt to defend himself against a virtual beast. But it’s too late; a muffled scream escapes the machine, volume too loud like always. Game over as pink blood splashes the screen.

“Dammit,” he sighs, slamming the gun back into the plastic holster hanging off the machine.

“Close one,” Prompto grins, arms crossed.

A dissatisfied growl as Noct makes his way out of the arcade, showered in a dizzying array of multicoloured lights blinding their signal in the dark room. Prompto follows, amused at the atmosphere around him; game sounds and lights filled his eyes, nearly getting himself lost trying to follow the shadow of the Prince.

Outside the world was changed, hard and cold compared to what the welcoming arcade was. Too quiet. But Noct preferred it. _Ten days._ He watches the sky quietly, standing on the sidewalk; the darkening grey nearly feels suffocating now. He feels childish.

“You okay?”

“This sucks,” he’s honest, walking aimlessly.

“Oh,” he gets it, “I guess he’s been gone for a while, huh?” he wants to understand better. Despite wanting the same, he and Ignis were comfortable with their distance. Not ten days’ worth, of course, but he had never seen Noct so attached to someone else.

“I dunno why it bothers me so much,” he starts, voice quiet. “I know he’ll be fine. I just feel weird without him.”

Prompto smiles despite himself. “Man, who are you?” he laughs.

“Hm?” Noct looks up at him, curious.

“You were never bothered with being alone,” he starts, smiling with a half wave at a dog that passes them by, its owner ignoring him. “Hell, you always spend time alone. But being with him, I dunno, changed you,” he feels awkward about the words.

“Changed me? Good? Or-?” Noct seems amused.

“No, not - it’s hard to explain. But - you’ve seemed a lot - a LOT - happier lately. Even in this last week or so, you’re still happier. I don’t know what it is. And I’m clearly a master at explaining myself,” he grins.

Noctis sighs. “You’re right.” his hands are cold, buried deep in his jacket pockets. His voice slightly muffled by a bundled scarf. “But I don’t think it’s just, ‘oh, now that I’m with someone I’m happy’ no - it’s - _him_. It’s, it’s something I can’t quite name; just knowing he’s part of my life - I don’t think I could be without that feeling and it scares me.”

Prompto laughs lightly. “Gotta get married, dude,” he jokes.

He nearly trips over his feet at the thought but doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t answer either. His mind trails back, as it had many times over the last week and a half, of a dream recurring….

A house.

A cliff.

A small river through the valley beneath.

Alone.

He shakes his head with a smirk, scowling then at the cold surrounding them as they continue walking. Downtown Insomnia is alive but barely, a mid-afternoon unsettled with icy frost that chilled its inhabitants to their lungs. Unclear of their destination, Prompto follows, more welcoming to the cold than his friend, whose face is almost completely burrowed into his scarf. A few minutes of silence is allowed, Prompto occasionally checking his phone or watching the slow cars make their way past them.

“Hey.” he stops, poking Noct’s arm slightly and pointing just ahead of them. A small, familiar dog trotted around in the street, being ignored by citizens as he dodged their feet. Noctis glances up, a smile immediately reaching his face. Umbra reaches them, panting happily despite the chill air.

“Let’s get you somewhere warm,” the Prince offers. He thinks of home, decides it best to rather go back to his own apartment. Prompto follows him.

 

 

Noct finds the cold apartment as empty as he had left it, small differences indicating Ignis - and likely Prompto - had been taking care of the place. Noctis can tell he’s been there when Prom immediately makes himself at home, tossing his coat to the couch and only catching himself to glance back at the Prince as he’s walking toward the window to open the blinds.

“Shit - sorry -”

“No worries,” Noctis shrugs. “At least someone’s using the place.”

Umbra, too, makes himself at home, tiny feet _clicking_ lightly against the tile of the kitchen floor as he explores the apartment. Noct eventually joins them on the couch, untying the small cloth from the canine’s back. The familiar pages greet him, he’s smiling as he reads.

  


_Noctis,_

 

_I’m so pleased to hear you’re doing well. Did you tell me your glaive was from Galahd? He is very sweet,_ (here, she writes two lines of writing he cannot understand). _Please let him see that, I hope he is there with you. How is Insomnia doing? Prompto, how is he?_ (Noctis motions over to him, lets him know that she’s asking about him. As if remembering something, he jumps to his coat pocket, taking out a handful of small polaroids. “Can I send her some of these?!” he asks, eyes bright.) _I hope I can see you all soon._

_I’m...hesitant to talk about this, but I do not know where else to turn. How have your dreams been? The gods are quieter now, even to me. The Light and the Kings ignore my call. You’ve told me about their interferences with Nyx - and I wonder if it is somehow related. And I fear if there is something deep within Eos that is making them tremble. Can the gods be afraid as we are?_

 

_Luna._ (a small ‘:)’ covers the corner of her name.)

  


He decides to write back later. The thought of the gods, even the old kings, fearing something greater than they - it was too much to consider for now. With a sigh he closes the notebook, fastening back onto its messenger. Prompto takes notice.

“Hey, I can still send these, right?” his voice sounds betrayed at the sight of the book fastened away, holding up several pictures of various subjects. Noctis smirks.

“Yeah, of course, just leave them with me,” he replies. “Just a lot to say. Need some time to think about it. Need Nyx here, too.”

“How come?”

“She wrote something to him.”

“What’s it say?”

He smiles. “No idea. I didn’t know she understood Galahdian.”

Prompto raises his brow. “Can I see?” he turns the book to him, pointing out the line. “Man, her writing is always so nice. Yours sucks,” he adds.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that,” he rolls his eyes.

“So, hm.” Prompto starts, looking down.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know when he’s coming back?”

He sighs, defeated. “I thought today; maybe tomorrow? Hopefully,” he shrugs. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“You can’t call him?” he receives a half glare in response. “Text?”

“He said he’d let me know when he was close to the city again.”

Prompto’s busy shuffling his hand through Umbra’s fur. His golden eyes flicker as if to keep watch on him.

“I miss him.” Noct admits. “Like - more than I’ve missed anything.”

Prompto smiles. “It’s weird, dude.”

“I know - I hate it.” he grins despite himself. “Sorry.”

“Hey - no big deal, alright? He’ll be back soon, no way he’d let something happen.”

Noct smiles, standing. “Keep Umbra for a bit, okay?”

“Hm?”

“I’ll get back to Luna tomorrow,” he starts, taking the book with him. “But you keep him company, alright?”

Prompto looks at him like he just handed him the world. “O-of course! He’s safe with me!”

Noctis grabs his coat, smiling as he leaves. “Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder, Prompto waving him off, distracted with Umbra entirely.

 

\-----

 

It is getting dark. The dusk settles across the plains of Liede like a ghost, blanketing harsher cliff edges with soft shadow. The noise of the truck is loud enough to keep the glaives awake, but many fall on the line of unconsciousness as they are carried home. The back of the truck is military, caved out back lined with iron benches on either side. Nyx’s face is lit up by the light of his phone as he sleepily traces out a text, but fast enough that no one takes notice.

 

[ _Be home soon.]_

 

With a sigh he pockets the device, resting against the steel wall of the truck as they drive on. His eyes closed, he focuses on the muffled sound of the engine taking them home.

“Hey.” a quiet voice across from him.

He opens his eyes and glares ahead. Libertus looks at him with tired eyes. Nyx doesn’t say anything, instead waits.

“I just wanted to...uh,” he stops, looking at his hands. His expression falters into a vulnerability Nyx doesn’t see often. “I’m sorry - for how I’ve been.” his voice is quiet enough, the rest of the glaives tired enough to not hear nor care about what he’s trying to say. Nyx is the only one who listens, his brow raised slightly.

“Crowe told me - or explained - everything, or, well, everything about the whole…”Gods thing”,” he stammers, exhausted hands forming air quotes around his words.

“Oh?” Nyx’s tone isn’t malicious, just soft.

“I didn’t know - and - what I did, it wasn’t right,”

“No,” _obviously._

“And look - I don’t know what’s goin’ on between you guys, and I don’t care - I was a jerk, and I get if you don’t want me around for a while. But I do want to try and make things right.”

Nyx sighs, taken a bit by surprise. “I get what it must have looked like - and I can’t just blame you for not knowing the rest of the story. But,” his arms crossed, “I do know how much you hate him besides that.” his voice is dark, _hurt_.

Libertus cannot answer. He watches the lights of the truck outside shift and reflect upon the cold steel of the floor. One of the glaives is sleeping in the corner, unbothered by the cold. Her mouth hangs open in a lazy dream, snoring lightly.

“I can try to come around.”

A dry smile. “I don’t think there’s anything that could make you. I know how you feel about him.” he looks down. “He’s not coming back to the field anyway, so it’s not like you have to worry.”

“Did something happen?”

A deadpan stare. “He almost killed me.”

“I mean, w-”

“I don’t know what the god stuff means. But to keep everyone unharmed, he’s training elsewhere.” his voice is distant like the memory he’s forced to bring back. The blade, so cold, nearly spilled and so warm. He longs to not have to say more. He longs more for the warmth of home, his Prince, so close again-

“What’s that?” the truck slows to a stiff halt. Some of the glaives stir, tired eyes looking out the grated windows.

Nyx kicks the door of the truck open, leaping out. They are close to the border of Liede and Insomnia. The world feels empty of its people. No danger to be seen, yet a very still calm before the storm. What was it that stopped them? He turns, freezing in his footsteps.

_What the hell is that?_

It spikes out of a low Lieden cliff. A chaotic metal structure stands distant, but close enough to make the ‘Glaive feel sick. They’re not sure how it got there. Their first thought, _we would have seen something, right? Surely we would have known._ But there’s no words to suit solace for the horror unfolding within the Imperial work before them. _What are they trying to do?_ It violently juts out of the rock and bleeds full with Scourge. The structure stands like a syringe, more than a hundred feet in the air. It’s connected to a series of machines, all surging power into its core. Tube-like tendrils connect to the syringe as if to feed it.

_How did they -_

A shrill noise bleeds out as painful as it looks; the grating together of rusted, pieced together metal forcing itself to work. Nyx can see the top of the structure sink into itself, pushing a blood black substance into the cliffside. It glows, a liquid fowl and thick, hums itself gently and sickeningly into the realm of Eos.

They’re frozen, and more than anything, exhausted. What could they do but watch?

“Sir, we need to -” but he’s cut off by a wave of the Captain’s hand. Drautos, too, was shocked.

A few minutes pass as they watch the machine. It seems unstable, shaking upon its own weight and crudely crafted, but it manages to sink a small part of its poison into the cliffside before powering back down, the same twisted, grating sound the only noise in the still night. Everything stops. They could not see the cliff but it did not change; the Scourge was buried deep, not enough to blacken the surface, not yet.

“We need to get out of here,” Drautos finally announces, voice cracked and sleep-deprived. “We’re nothing in this state. It’s been ten days out here, no one can take whatever this is on right now.”

A slow, collective nod. They pile back into the truck, stumbling across the steel and slumping into their respective corners. Nyx tries not to think of what the hell that was. What it was doing so _dangerously close_ to the city. He tries to think of home again, a loving picture blanketed in sweet calm. But it’s wrought with deep blackening red at its edges.

He leans against the cold steel again, armed, hooded, shielded, and safe for now. But Noctis - probably sweetly asleep in their shared apartment, dreaming of the glaive - he hoped - blind to what now lie just outside. But as the road drags on so does the thought, worry finally escaping him. He closes his eyes, counting minutes until they see the city lights reflecting off of fractals in the sky above.

 

_They can’t get under the Wall, can they?_

\-----

 

It is well past nightfall when the glaives return home, no greeting but the unsettling cold. Nevertheless, the unexpected chill keeps them awake as they dispatch the training ground. The Citadel is dark but the streets are silently alive, warm lights echoing down narrow roads that lead the way home. The usual path he takes is marked with its comforting blanket of lights, connecting the sides of the alleyway together with a familiar glow. There are some stray neighbours outside, waving to the glaive with friendly concern; they are turning in. The usual life of the burrowed street was long ready to hibernate. Insomnia feels so unusually cold that he fears the walk home might kill him, leaving the Citadel with orders to keep his mouth shut, that the King would need to know of what they saw immediately. _The King,_ he considers, embarrassed at the thought as he unlocks the door to his apartment.

It’s completely dark, slight panic that he might not be there waiting for him. He tries to keep his heart from falling as he steps inside, lights from the street echoing in through the window by his bed. _He is not there._ Momentarily broken, he turns to close and lock the door, almost startled by the quiet shifting of someone behind him.

The Prince sleeps sprawled on the small couch, shirtless but clothed in a small fleece blanket. He is lit only by a small, muted TV playing reruns of some old cartoon, his form washed in soft blues and pinks from the tired screen. Nyx can only stare, his heart so immediately full that his eyes fill with tears.

He tries not to wake him, stepping carefully through the apartment, untying his gloves in the dark. He finds the table near the couch, finds himself smiling more than he thought possible when he looks at Noctis again. Setting his gloves down causes another shift from the Prince, humming soft and annoyed. His arms hang off the edge of the couch, head hanging as if he were about to fall off the makeshift bed entirely.  

Nyx kneels next to him as gently as he can, earning another annoyed groan anyway. He sets a hand on his shoulder, alarmed at how _warm_ he is, wanting suddenly to run his hands all over his body.

“Nnnn-”

Nyx can’t help but laugh. “You’re right as I left you,” he speaks softly, but alarms the Prince anyway, who jumps awake at the sound. His eyes, blanketed and sleepy, turn bright at the sight of the glaive.

“Whh-?!” a soft gasp, then “Nyx?? _Oh,”_ he seizes his glaive with surprising speed, embracing him tightly. He pulls him down unto the couch, kissing at his neck, his coat, any part of him that was close. “You’re home!” he repeats, on the verge of tears as he pulls back, kissing him fully. One hand pulls at coat chains, the other cupped around his face.

The glaive’s laughter is muffled and his worries washed away completely, home becoming a word he was starting to love again. “Yes,” he pulls away to look at him, unable to help the grin on his face. Noctis sits up slowly.

“I thought you were gunna text me,”

“I did,” the glaive laughs again.

He reaches for the table without getting up, leaning to grab his phone. He catches himself smiling at the notification popup:

 

_[1 msg: My Glaive]_

_[Be home soon.] (2 hrs ago)_

 

He groans slightly. “I lost track of time, I’m sorry - I should have had the place looking nicer than this,”

“Don’t worry about it.” he stands, undoing the fastenings on his coat. “I’m gunna hop in the shower quick, okay? Gimme two minutes,” he says, stepping away.

Noct stands, stretches in the cold apartment as he walks over to turn on the light. The apartment feels dim and small but it feels like paradise; he thinks of the dream, knowing that it would feel just like this had it been real. A beautiful, quiet, private place - just for them.

He clicks off the small TV, moving toward the small, open kitchen. He’s thankful he didn’t leave the place a disaster, a few stray dishes lying around. He sets to pile them in the sink, getting himself a glass of water as he hears the shower turn off in the next room.

Nyx opens the door of the bathroom, poking his head out. “Noctis, have you seen my sweatpant-” he stops, glaring at the Prince.

Noct is frozen, staring back at him, eyes wide. “....no,” he says quietly. He sets his glass down slowly, stepping away from the counter. He stands shirtless, a very loose, oversized pair of pants hangs low under his hipbones.

“Noctis,” he steps forward, holding a towel around his waist.

He points at his chest. “Mine now,” he smiles.

Nyx steps forward to catch him but he’s too late as the Prince dashes out of the way, escaping into blue light with laughter. Eyes wide, the glaive watches him crash into the wall before landing on the bed. He’s still laughing as he lands, and Nyx can hear a muffled “fuck” into the sheets.

Noctis tries to hide beneath the blankets, Nyx catching up with him anyway. “You okay?” he teases, sweeping his hands beneath the blankets to wrap his arms around the Prince. He leans against the wall, cradling him.

Noct welcomes the touch, humming softly and embracing his glaive. He looks up at him, curious at how different he looks without his braids; his damp hair is messy, loose strands framing his face. Noct adores him, stares into his tired, silver eyes. Nyx looks back at him, his hand brushing gently against his face.

“ _So beautiful,_ ” the glaive sighs.

“Nnn,” Noct hides his face in Nyx’s neck, lying on top of him. “I missed you.”

“ _I missed you too, my dear light. It was weird not seeing you every morning. So beautiful-”_

“Nyx,” the Prince smiles. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” he kisses into his warm skin, following the tattooed line he was so accustomed to. “Not that I mind, I like listening to you anyway.”

“ _Oh?_ What if I was just making fun of you this whole time?” the glaive smiles.

Noct taps him lightly on the chest. “Like you would,”

“ _Impossible,”_ he agrees, kissing him lightly. “Kinda weird that you like taking other people’s clothes, though?”

“Come on!” he rolls his eyes but can’t stop himself from grinning. “Take ‘em back, if you want them,” he teases.

“Hmm,” the glaive is satisfied with the thought, pulling his Prince close to kiss him slowly. The day has made him so tired, he feels almost dreamlike.

Noct takes notice, pulling away to study him. “Been a day, huh?”

The glaive smiles. “Something like that,”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Noct gets off of him, making the glaive regret his words as he tries to pull him back. But Noct stands, moves across the room to hit the light off, then to the kitchen again. “Do you want anything?” he calls behind his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” the glaive yawns in reply. Clicking on the small lamp next to the bed, he stands too, realizing he’s still clad in a towel, cold and damp. “Gimme my pants,”

Noct sets his now empty glass in the sink. “I told you,” he starts. “If you want them, take them,” he smiles.

The glaive blushes, unsure of how to continue. _Yes,_ he thinks, but something’s keeping him from moving. The Prince, in his sarcastic smugness, in his longing, was making him nervous - _why?_

Noct steps closer to him. “Everything okay?”

A small nod in return. “I feel weird, just - a long week and a half, I guess?”

“Talk to me,” one hand on the back of his neck, the other tracing the mark beneath his eye.

Instead he leans in to kiss him, hard. Then, pulling away, “I love you,” kissing again, feeling anxiety replaced with deep ache, “god, fuck, baby, I missed you so much,” he pushes against the Prince.

But the Prince pushes back. “Oh yeah?” he pulls away, surprising the glaive by shoving him back to the bed. His expression shifts for a moment, face flushed as he undresses, but confident as he undresses the glaive, too. He settles back onto his lap. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

Nyx is stunned awake, frozen as the Prince kisses hard into his neck, biting at his skin when he speaks.

“I know,” he breathes, “how tired you must be.”

“N-no,” he lies, cursing himself and wanting Noct more than ever.

“Hmmm,” he doesn’t buy it.

“Noctis,” pleading, hungry, unable to stand the bites at his skin.

“I love that,” he returns with a snarl, “how needy you sound.”

“Noctis - please,” his hands running along cold skin, absentmindedly tracing at the scar on his lower back.

“More,” he demands.

Nyx can only moan, clawing feebly into the Prince’s back. “Fuck, baby-”

“I missed you,” Noct gasps at the nails set into his skin, “just thinking of you - hnn - is enough to drive me insane.”

A mess of Galahdian words escape Nyx, his mind going blank.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he starts, groaning as the glaive grips harder into his back. “F-fuck me, just look at you.” he pulls away for a moment, adoring his glaive in the low light. His eyes are heavy-lidded, shining, spaced out as he watches the Prince.

“Noctis,” he tries, “I’m, I, _you’re fucking killing me -_ ”

“I like having you this way,” Noctis smirks, tracing a tattooed line across his chest. “No new scars for me,” he says absently, returning to kiss at the small marks upon his skin.

Breathy laughter escapes the glaive. “I was careful,” he promises, “because I knew who I was coming home to-”

“Nyx,” he pulls away again, straightening himself on the glaive’s lap. He takes heavy hands in his own, bringing one to his chest and the other around his ass. “Touch me.”

Nyx’s heart is pounding as he kisses into his lover’s neck, Noct gasping as he’s worked open. The glaive lives off of the moans, the sweet sounds escaping the Prince’s throat as he leans into him.

“I - I, hnn,” Noct tries. “T-ten fucking days without you - I c-couldn’t stop thinking about you - f-fuck, I just, a-ah,” he trails off, gasping into Nyx’s neck.

He only hums in response, focused on how the Prince thrusts himself harder against him. “You’re impatient,” he growls into his skin.

“I-I don’t c-care, fuck,” he lifts himself off of the glaive’s hand, situating himself on his cock instead. “Lemme ride you-”

“Noctis,” he moans. “Fuck sakes-”

“Calling me impatient when you’ve been - hhah - gone f-for this long, f-fuck,” he’s gasping as he settles onto the glaive, the familiar burn he’s missed so much filling him. He cries out as the glaive thrusts into him, causing Nyx to pull back but Noct refuses, grinding himself down harder. “W-what am I supposed to do when all I can think of is you,” his throat ragged, “and you’re n-not here? And I can’t do half as good a job as you do,” he admits, blushing.

Nyx’s hands grip into his hips, nails digging into his skin, causing Noct to cry out in surprise. “Don’t tease me with that,” he breathes, eyes wild.

Noct falls forward, hands planted on either side of the glaive to support himself, now shaking. “I-I can’t h-help it,” he whines, “W-when I think of how gorgeous...how good you are, I - a-ah -”

Nyx moans, breaths ragged, his back arching as he grips harder into Noctis’ hips.

“Nyx -” he starts, feeling close, a deep fire welling in the pit of his stomach. “N-nyx, I - I’m-!” but he’s coming hard and fast onto the glaive, thoughts blanking into an abyss. He can hear himself crying loud when he feels the glaive come full inside of him, losing balance as his arms give out, letting Nyx catch him by the wrists.

Panting, he blinks away tears, entire body shaking. He lifts himself carefully off of the glaive, gasping at the feeling of his come leaking out of him. He doesn’t lie down, kneeling over the glaive as he comes back to life.

“Oh Gods,” he looks at Nyx with heavy lidded eyes. “You’re a fucking mess, I’m sorry,” he laughs.

Nyx grimaces, too exhausted to care. He tries to bring Noctis close but the Prince refuses, instead moving off of him. Confused, he watches him gently stand next to the bed, gripping the glaive’s hand. “Come with me.”

  


He starts with running his hands through his hair, still fascinated by the absence of braids. The water caresses them both, gentle warmth echoing in the space of the shower. Their kisses are slow, soft, and dreamlike; Nyx feels as if he could fall asleep right here, unable to remember how the morning began, never dreaming in his life the night would greet him this way. Noctis sighs when they part, resting his face against the glaive’s chest, forgetting anything else in the world existed. He feels a slow hand run through his hair, humming softly.

“I love you,”

He’s kissed against the shower wall, neither having the energy to go further, just wanting the presence, the touch. The world feels emptied of everything, as if they exist in a dream; the Prince running his hands along toned and scarred skin, soaked in warmth. Nyx presses himself against Noct, slipping slightly against the wall and smiling against their kiss. A few minutes more until he turns the water off, still kissing at the Prince until he’s shaking from the cold.

“N-nyx,” he breathes.

With a half smile he steps out of the shower, leading the Prince with him. Noct grabs a towel from its place hanging on the wall, drying his hair, then blanketing himself, shivering slightly. Nyx pats himself dry, taking Noctis’ hand to lead him back to bed.

He feels as if he could sleep as soon as the Prince settles beside him, but a thought springs up in his mind. He finds himself next to one of the brightest lights of Eos, now sleepy beside him, watching him with starry ocean eyes. Nyx can only smile in return.

“I like your hair,” Noct says in a voice laced with sleep.

Nyx raises his brow in question, amused.

“I never see it without braids in it,” he explains. “For some reason I figured you just never take them out.”

Noct burrows his face into his pillow, damp spikes of hair splaying around him.

Nyx lies with him, arm resting around his waist. He watches the fading stars outside, wrapped in cold and dimmed out by city lights. His mind drifts back to the nightmare machine resting outside the city limits, what the plan could _possibly_ be, and his anxiety grows. Every second passes him by escapes into a void, threatening him with the idea of how little time the Prince and he might have left together.

He sits up suddenly, breaths cut short. _I can’t lose this._

“Nyx?”

“I - I’m,” his eyes are wide, panic seizing his thought.

“Hey - Nyx, hey - what is it?” tired eyes fill with worry, cold hands reach for his shoulders.

_I can’t lose him, I can’t lose this - I can’t - I can’t - “Please don’t take him away from me, I can’t lose this,”_ tears spring into the silver of his eyes.

“Whoa, okay, hey,” Noct embraces him tightly. “Did something happen out there? Did _I_ do something? Tell me, talk to me,” he runs a hand along his back, slow and repetitive. “Breathe with me,” he orders.

“I’m sorry”

“No - what is it?”

With a sigh, he tries to explain. “I don’t want to scare you -”

“It’s okay,”

He explains the encounter as simply as he can, not meriting as much of a response from the Prince as he expected. “We’re not sure what exactly it is, but I think-”

“They can’t get in.”

“What?”

“No matter what they do, they won’t get inside.” his voice is confident, stoic.

Nyx is quiet, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry,”

“Was that what was bothering you though?”

“No.”

Noctis waits.

“Thinking of something happening so close to home terrifies me because - this time I spend with you - feels so limited in the scope of everything else - and I can’t - I can’t lose this, I can’t-”

“Nyx.”

“Hm,”

“Nyx,” he repeats, kissing once at his collarbone. “I know the feeling. And I know it’s hard not to focus on. But we have to take what we’re given - and I love you - and nothing in this world will take that away.” he kisses him once, soft.

“I love you too,” he hums, “thanks. I guess it’s just been hard being away from you - I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,”

“Yes - you’ve shown me just how much,” he grins.

Noct blushes, turning his glance away. “I hope that was good?”

He cups his face in his hand, catching his eye again. “The most amazing I’ve ever felt, _little king_.”

They’re quiet for awhile, Noct slumped against the glaive as he’s kissed into his hair. Nyx lets him pull away to lie back down, but he stays where he is. He stares into his lap, studies his shaking hands. _There might not be another time._

“Can I…? I…” he starts, voice shaky. Noct looks up at him. “I’ve been meaning to give you something.”

“Hm?” his eyes narrow.

He turns to the bedside table, digging through the bottom drawer with a tired hand. “I know it’s here somewhere,”

“Wha- what is it?” Noct sits up, a slight glare suiting his expression.

“Well,” he explains, still searching. “Something I’ve had for a while - I just thought, well- we’ve been together - for - for a little while, I guess - but, I just thought,” finally finding it, a small wooden box hiding in the corner, “that you should have it.” He lifts it into his lap, Noct’s expression troubled.

“Nn- uhm,” he tries to refuse, not sure how to react.

But Nyx places it in his hands. He looks at it awkwardly, noticing the worn, aged look to it. Opening it, he finds something wrapped in a soft, small cloth. He glances at the glaive.

“I don’t-”

“Just open it,” he smiles, but Noct is motionless. He was terrible with gifts, he always was. But with trembling hands he picks up the cloth, unraveling it slowly.

He almost drops it onto the bedsheets, a violently shaking hand covering his mouth, the other open and resting on his lap. He catches a sob in his throat, tears spilling from his eyes. A small ring of silver rests in his palm, it’s well-worn and inscripted with writing he cannot read.

“I- wh - I,” he breathes, looking at his glaive.

“I’ve had it for a long time - from home, I just thought -”

“This is from Galahd? I can’t - Nyx, no, I ca-”

“Noctis - I want you to have this.”

“But-”

“It’s okay. I know it’s probably weird, and if you don’t want-”

“I love it,” he states, studying it carefully. “I just don’t want to take something so important,”

“Think of it this way,” he offers, kissing his temple softly. “I’ve been with you for a little while; and the time spent with you has made me feel a way that I haven’t felt in a long time. And I’ve said it before, but it’s true; being with you feels like home. And I want to share this with you.”

Noct looks at it more closely. Picking it up, he tries it on the middle finger of his left hand. He adores the worn inscription, how snugly it fit onto his hand. Part of him wonders if the ring had belonged to someone before him. “I’m a fucking asshole,” he sobs, “I don’t have anything for you.”

The glaive laughs. “God - sweetheart, I don’t care about that,” he embraces him, holding his hands tightly.

Noct kisses him, slow tears staining his face in the dark. “Thank you,” he whispers between kisses, hands running along the glaive’s body. The night is as tired as they, blanketing them in deep silence as finally, they fall together into a gentle, needed sleep. Noct’s dreams are emptied, he does not miss the scene he had become so used to seeing after the glaive being away for so long. He feels the cold silver in his hand, drifting away and memorizing the feeling. He thinks of the small, etched lines creating words he didn’t know.

“What does it say?” he asks, unsure of whether it was in a dream or not.

A sleepy, grumbled response. “I can’t remember,” he lies. “The words are pretty well worn off.”

Noct hums, enjoying the mystery. He holds the glaive’s hand in his own as he drifts to sleep.

 

\---

 

“Noctis,” the voice is drunk on sleep and full of want.

The Prince feels like he’s dreaming, but the feeling of Nyx hard against him feels real enough for him to open his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he’s softly gasping as the glaive pulls him closer in his sleep.

“Mm - Noct - Noctis,” he hears again, words barely intelligible.

“Nyx -?” he blushes hard, part of a dream he’s unaware of.

“Yes,” pulling him closer still, Noct gasping louder.

“Hh-ah, okay -” he hides his face in Nyx’s neck, kissing slowly at his skin.

“I’m love you,” his words are slurred as he hums in reaction to the touch.

Noctis laughs. “Okay Nyx,” he mumbles in reply.

“Hm,” a response more awake than before. “Noctis?”

“Yes,” he continues kissing at his skin. He pulls away, taking note of the incredulous expression on the glaive. “Don’t look at me like that, _you_ woke me up grinding into me,” he teases.

“Mmm, I’m sorry,” an unapologetic voice.

“Yeah, yeah-” he moves over the glaive, kissing at his chest, eliciting soft sighs. “Tell me what you were dreaming about,” he starts in a playful voice.

“I’m still dreaming,” he offers with a smile. “C’mere,” arms tightening around him.

“Nyx, I cannot get closer to you if I tried,” he laughs.

“Yes - mm, you could,” he implies.

“Oh,” Noct blushes, hiding his face in the glaive’s neck again. “You want me, baby?”

“Always,” he sighs. He tries to position himself to take the Prince, but he’s pushed back down gently.

“No,” despite a confused whine, “Let me do this for you.”

Nyx looks at him, the deep silver of his eyes spaced out with the young hours of the night.

Noct situates himself between the glaive’s legs. “Just - I’ve never really done this - so don’t judge me,” he says shakily.

Nyx takes cold hands in his own. “I love you,”

“You too,” he smiles.

He starts slow, awkward, confused, gripping into Nyx’s hips and moaning with a broken voice as he’s reminded of how it feels to be inside him.

“F-f-fuck,” Nyx breathes.

“Nn - is this okay?” he continues with slow thrusts, sleep still heavy upon his shoulders.

“Yes - yes,” he too, is clumsy in his exhaustion, positioning himself to make things easier on the Prince.

“I - hhn - you feel amazing,” he whines. He picks up his pace, slowly getting used to the feeling. He keeps his eye on Nyx as he spaces out, moaning softly and lost in his thoughts.

“Is this,” he tries to start, a low moan tearing from his throat as Noct pushes into him. “Is - thh, mmh, is this weird,” he tries again.

Noct freezes. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” thrusting himself down to make him continue, “I - me,”

“You?”

“I’m - hhah - older than you,” he manages.

“Yes,” gasping as the glaive pulls him closer.

“Like - a lot,”

“Yes, I know that,” he slows, bent over the glaive and watching his spaced out expression falter. “Where is this coming from?”

“And that’s - nn, fuck - is that weird?”

Noct stops, smiling, “Nyx if I thought this was weird I dunno if I’d be doing this to you right now.”

“Fair enough,” Nyx smiles, embarrassed, pulling Noct down to kiss him.

“What brought this up?”

“Mmh,” he glances away. “Everytime I look at you,” he admits, almost shy.

“Nyx,”

“Mmm,”

“Look at _you_ ,” he starts, thrusting into him slowly.

Nyx moans, back arching slightly.

Leaning forward, he sweeps his left hand across his lover’s face, tracing a small mark tattooed on his cheekbone. “My glaive,” he starts. “Mine.”

“Yes.”

“My glaive,” he says again, stopping to kiss him fully before he pulls away.

He starts slow again, but it doesn’t take them much longer to meet their bliss, falling apart as the night brings silence. The Prince comes down, kissing at his glaive, worshipping each scar, every tattooed line, the silver of a Galahdian ring echoing off of his hand as he embraces him. Nyx is silent, tearful, weary as he returns the gentle love. Sleep carries them through the cold, holding them in a sweet safety where they would lie until the greeting of morning.

 

\-----

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you for reading!
> 
> \- we'll hear more about that dream later; and more of the ring, too (: 
> 
> \- surely nothing bad can happen after this ;-;

**Author's Note:**

> \- thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> \- for updates and other works, you can follow me over at my Twitter! @animaswickedson
> 
> \- you can also reach me at my  tumblr!


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